


Nail Biters

by deadandgone



Category: My Chemical Romance, frerard - Fandom
Genre: (Past) mentions of child abuse, AU, Alcohol, Divorce, Drug Use, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of Crying, M/M, Prostitution, Sex, Teenage AU, angsty!Gerard, mentions of physical insecurity, whiny!Frank
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-17
Updated: 2013-07-24
Packaged: 2017-12-15 07:10:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 19
Words: 41,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/846757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadandgone/pseuds/deadandgone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Still, he obviously hadn't been quiet enough, because a little over a month ago when he had woken up in a hospital with a bored-looking policeman sitting in one of those God-awful plastic chairs beside his bed, Gerard Way knew that he’d fucked up big time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I'll Never Have To Listen, To Anyone About Anything

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fic, so I have no idea what I'm doing. I toyed with the idea of writing something short and sweet, but in the end I thought something kind of dark and angst-y would be better (after all, there are a lot of fluff one-shots out there!). This was supposed to be a prologue or tester chapter, because I doesn't want to post a 10 page post and have everyone hate it. If you like the story, let me know and I'll post the other, longer chapters. so, yeah, enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In essence, it was the exact same thing. His mom wanted to take in a stray, and he really wasn't a big enough dick to refuse.

It's a rainy kind of Saturday when Frank's blissful reign as ruler of the Iero household was broken and his life virtually turned upside down. He knew that, yes, that may have been a bit of an exaggeration, but it really didn't feel like it when his mom handed him a list of stuff to get from the nearby grocery store.

He stared at the long list in confusion.

"Mom," he scrunched up his nose and blinked, just to make sure that this is indeed a grocery list. "We stocked up two days ago." 

He now had perfectly valid grounds for believing his mother was going insane. They went grocery shopping once a week on Friday, and today was Sunday. 

His mom then sat him down at the cluttered kitchen table and smiled in the kind of way a mother does when she wants to tell you something bad. She went on to explain that since their house had a spare room and her job as a social worker and occasional foster parent is something she cared about very much, it only seemed right to offer it to someone who didn't have anywhere else to stay.

And Frank didn't like that. At all. It wasn't that he was a selfish asshole who didn't give a fuck about all the kids his mom worked with, but this was his home and things had been awkward enough when Kid A had lived with them. Three years older than Frank, the dude had spent the entire three months living with them sprawled on the couch and blasting jungle music through his too-large headphones.

Even if this new kid was quieter, Frank didn't think he was down. He'd only planned on a quick drive to fulfill his craving for nicotine, and now he had to pick up all this crap on the list (most of it cleaning product because the spare bedroom hadn't been touched since his dad moved out a couple years back).

So Frank had reservations from the start, but what could he do about it? his mom's expression was hopeful and excited, much like his those times he had begged her to let him take in the strays by the bar downtown. She'd always say yes, and then they'd wash off the mutts and give them something to eat before calling the local shelter.

In essence, it was the exact same thing. His mom wanted to take in a stray, and he really wasn't a big enough dick to refuse.

So that's how Frank ended up driving to the 7/11 in his beat up jeep in the very late summer. Due to the the fact that he was in a bad mood and Game Of Thrones was on in half an hour, he sped his way through the isles and made it to the checkout in record time.

 

"No jungle hardcore," he told Linda Iero sternly as she fished in her handbag for her car keys. It was three days later and, after some long phone calls and copious forms, his mother was going to meet the kid she wanted to foster and decide if the "arrangement is suitable".

"It'll be the first thing I ask" she responded dryly, but when she pulled her son in for a kiss, she ruffling his hair and giving his hand a quick squeeze, Frank didn't feel so grumpy anymore. No matter how annoying their guest was going to be, his mom would be happy.


	2. I'll Sleep When I'm Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But Frank knew that his mom wouldn't put them in danger, so while Kid B might have prison tattoos and a dick-ish attitude, he assumed that the chances of having his throat slit while he slept were relatively low.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, I had the next chapter saved as a draft on Livejournal and it was lost. I'll have to re-write it and I'm scared it won't be as good, but I guess that's how things go sometimes.

Gerard had always been careful when it came to doing stuff he shouldn't be. He was always polite and acted like he wasn't anyone of importance, so more often than not he was dismissed and ignored, which was exactly what he wanted.

Still, he obviously hadn't been quiet enough, because a little over a month ago when he had woken up in a hospital with a bored-looking policeman sitting in one of those God-awful plastic chairs beside his bed, and it was then that Gerard Way knew that he'd fucked up big time.

The Cop didn't seem to share his crisis, even as Gerard attempted to raise himself up onto his elbows and get some goddamn information. He didn't look up and carried on tapping out some vital message onto his router. In the end, Gerard had to knock a glass of water off his suspended tray, and the twinge that ran the whole way up his arm when he performed this action told him that it hadn't been a good move.

Then, everything sped into clinical, controlled chaos. Just like when you fast forward through the annoying, promotional commercials before a DVD starts, a nervous-looking Asian doctor with a mole on his neck resembling the state of Texas was reading his maladies from a clipboard at break-neck speed.

Severe swelling to the left side of his brain causing him to just wake up from a three-day coma, A broken collarbone, numerous lacerations to his left thigh, concussion, heavy bruising on his chest...

Gerard tried to focus, but he had given up on his body a long time ago. It didn't really matter if he was all fucked up physically, because then he'd have an excuse to not go to school and just stay still in general. He imagined, as he had many times before, the countless peaceful evenings in his bedroom. He'd have two pillows and he'd use them to prop himself up while he drew and read. Maybe he'd have a laptop, and he'd watch all of his favorite shows and movies while the rain pattered softly on the window nearby. There'd be no snide remarks or foul-smelling vodka, just him and his thoughts. 

And Mikey wouldn't be sick.

But fantasies were only figurative, and soon the bored cop was commanding his attention.

"Your mother was here two days ago when you arrived, but your younger brother's condition has worsened and she's with him at Clara Maass Medical Center in Belleville. She phoned about twenty minutes ago to inform us that she's on her way, along with your attorney."

The whole time he was speaking, he glared at Gerard as if Mikey's lung condition taking a turn for the worse was all his fault. But who was he kidding? Like his mom, Mikey knew what Gerard had been doing, and so finding out about this fiasco was probably the last straw. He imagined some faceless official telling his little brother about his hospitalization, and then Mikey's condition worsening, until he was a paper-thin, sickly shadow on the clinic sheets.

Gerard couldn't face his mother. She was going to be teary-eyed and pale, because she had always blamed herself for what had happened to him, even though she could never have possibly known.

He flopped back onto the bed, his body screaming in protest, and decided the only thing to do was to pretend to be asleep. It fooled Cop-terrifying, because he went back to his stupid router. By the time Gerard heard his ward door creak, and the dry sobs of his mother mixing with the click-clack of his lawyers somber heels, he had perfected some pretty impressive snores and snuffles.

He felt his mother's hand on his, stroking it reassuringly. Although Gerard knew nothing was going to be okay, and that with any luck he'd die in his sleep tonight, he couldn't help but feel safe. He guessed that not seeing much of his mom had made him even clingy-er than he would have been if he'd grown up in a conventional, nuclear family. He carried on acting asleep, evening out his breathing and letting his chest rise and fall until the three adults left him alone and began to discuss what was going to happen to him.

Perhaps his acting was too realistic, because Gerard suddenly felt cripplingly tired. His inflamed brain was only picking up on snippets of the conversation.

Mental health... files were taken... his mother's pleading voice... the rough drawl of the cop... non-consensual... the attorney's reassuring murmurs... all things considered...

He simply couldn't keep up with all the shit that was going to happen. The voices faded and Gerard's mind flashed with images of prison, Mikey dying alone and weak, his mother wasting away in their sad Jersey house and, worst thing of all, no one giving a fuck.

No one cared about him, so why should he? with this in mind, Gerard realized that it didn't matter whether he went to Juvie or not, because one quick jump off a roof or slice to the wrist would secure him the peace and quiet he so desperately craved.

Long story short, he'd fucked up and, lying there, encased within the grey walls and beeping machines of St. Michael's Hospital in Newark, New Jersey, all Gerard could think about was how he was going to pay the price for it.


	3. Plastic Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank thought for a minute while his mom reverted back to what she talked to Gerard about at their meeting. She's describing someone who almost sounds helpless, but when Frank realizes the form lying on Linda's bedside table the other day was an arrest warrant, he knows that there's something he isn't being told.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a mash-up of the three short chapters I had saved on my phone. My spelling is truly awful, so if you spot anything really bad just give me a yell and I'll be on it. I forgot to mention that the title of this chapter and the previous one are the names of songs by this band called Set It Off. I had the pleasure of meeting them last winter when they came to the UK for the first time, and they gave me a copy of their latest album. All the songs mentioned above are on it, and if you love The Black Parade, you'll love Set It Off.

Watching his mother pull up into their driveway and blaring ABBA's _Dancing Queen_ loud enough to wake the dead, Frank could only guess that her meeting with Kid B must have gone well. Sure enough, when the rattle of keys announced the imminent creak of the living room door, Linda's face was glowing.

"It's too dark in here, you'll mess up your eyes," was the first thing she said, and perhaps it was the quality of her vision that made her oblivious to the fact that her son was watching his third episode of _Friends_ in his underwear.

"How was it?" Frank asked, shielding his eyes from he vicious wrath of the living room light and deciding to ignore the irony of his mother's previous words.

He wanted to know, partly because the sooner his mom vented her obvious excitement he'd be free to head out to some party Toro had invited him to. Frank didn't know the host, but he guessed it would be good, judging by the excited and endless spamming all over Facebook. He guessed that knowing about their soon-to-be guest wouldn't hurt either, and so he did his best "paying attention" face (usually reserved for Biology class) while his mom described the dude.

"His name's Gerard, and he's so sweet; if a little shy. He's had a really rough few years and he got caught up in some bad stuff, so you're gonna have to be on your best behavior, okay? You'll have to start wearing some clothes when you watch T.V, because the last thing we need is him walking in, seeing you like this and being scarred for life."

"He isn't a serial killer, is he? No, wait, he robbed a bank!"

His mom sighed and muted the T.V, and then Frank knew that shit was getting serious.

"Gerard was attacked," she explained, not meeting her son's eyes. "His little brother has a serious lung condition, so his mother doesn't have time to give him the support he needs. So we're going to give him that security while he recovers, and his attorney agrees that foster care is the best thing for him right now."

Frank thought for a minute while his mom reverted back to what she talked to Gerard about at their meeting. She was describing someone who sounded almost helpless, but then Frank realized the form lying on Linda's bedside table the other day was an arrest warrant, and he knew that there was something he wasn't being told.

By the time his mom had finished gushing about Kid B Frank had, at least, gotten some important information about the guy. Gerard had turned sixteen last month, liked art, when asked what music he liked, he had said that he didn't know. Frank had already conjured up a mental image of Gerard. "Strong and silent", prison tattoos, the kind of douche who spent twelve hours a day at the gym.

Then again, he knows his mother wouldn't put both of them in danger, so Gerard Whoever might be a prick, but Frank would have to trust his mom's judgement and assume that the chances of having his throat slit while he slept were relatively low.

 _This is going to be a fun few months,_ Frank thought as he shrugged on his jacket. What kind of person "didn't know" what music they liked? and what "bad stuff" had he been caught up in? He was so totally right about the prison ink. 

What kind of name was "Gerard" anyway? It sounded like the name of that weird new kid in your class who'd just moved from Alabama, who had a lazy eye and had to go to the library whenever they did sex ed and science because his parents were devout baptists or whatever.

"Just don't be out too late, honey. No stumbling home drunk at four in the morning, hm?"

"Will do, mom. Love you."

 

"Man, that's _awesome_!"

Ray paused ranting about how great having a foster kid around would be to finish off his third shot. Frank just waited patiently. It wasn't like they were having some deep conversation, anyway. The awful 90's rock music thumping through the corridors of Bob's house made it hard enough to _see_ , let alone hear.

"I don't think you're getting it," Frank tried to explain to Ray about how Gerard was probably fresh out of Juvie, and the likelihood of having his mom's homemade mashed-potato for the next few moths at least was a straight up zero, but some pink-haired chick was tugging at the hem of his shirt the whole time, and nothing made sense with cheap beer misting the whole scene over.

Ray just stared at Frank in confusion.

"so... wait, you're nearly _seventeen fucking years old_ , and you're telling me that you don't want him over here because you wanna keep your mom all to yourself?"

And Frank just gaped at Ray while trying to fend off drunk-pink-chick. He tried to say something that would change his persona from whiny, clingy, uncharitable douche to someone totally cool but, as he was nearly hit on the head by a flying piece of pizza, he realized that becoming mature and nice wasn't going to work, because he really was a total dick.

Then, he reached for another beer.

 


	4. I'm A Walking Travesty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A week later, Gerard didn't care that Mrs Iero had a son the same age as him, or that living in a strange house alone was probably going to kill him, he just wanted to leave this fucking hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Chapter title is from the song "therapy" by All Time Low. I think I'm getting into the groove of this whole FanFic thing a bit more now, and thanks so much to everyone who gave me some great advice in the comments and left kudos, I'm amazed!

After what was maybe three weeks at St Michael's hospital in central Newark, Gerard felt like he was ready to put a bullet through his head. In some of his favorite books and movies, the hero got knocked into a coma. It was during this period that Gerard had to re-evaluate everything that his beloved media had ever taught him.

Being unconscious for an expended period of time was not heroic or fun, in fact: it sucked. Gerard found that coma recovery evoked the need to stay still and sleep for at least twenty hours. every time he moved his head he felt like a knife was slicing it open and his vision was oddly fuzzy, meaning that all day long the shitty television provided no respite and doctors were just a blur of lab coats.

He was also ninety percent sure that Cop Asshole from the day he came to had told his doctors to give him fake painkillers, because no matter how often he asked for more Morphine or Novocain or whatever, he never felt the results.

What was worst of all was the four police interrogations he had been forced to endure so far and constant meetings; usually with some chick from Social Services. It was bad enough having to describe The Incident in painful, minute and embarrassing detail to three Cops who thought he was the very scum of the earth, but when it was all over some earnest looking guy from child services with a stupid name like Randy (which totally wasn't his real name, because _c'mon_ ) would pat his arm and tell him that everything was going to be _just fine_ , Gerard just couldn't take it.

He felt like a loathed specimen in a zoo, maybe one of those sharks that killed a gazillion people but couldn't be given a death sentence by the very angry public because PETA would kick up a shit storm if they did.

If he wasn't under constant (and extremely hostile) supervision, he's end it all, his way.

It was probably during one of the terrifying police interviews, or that fucking medical exam which required him to take off all his clothes in front of the oldest doctor he'd ever seen, or maybe it had been when his mom promised him that no one would ever hurt him again on her last visit. It didn't even really matter when he decided to do it, what mattered was how he was going to do it.

And then his plan, which had seemed more like a wistful dream, suddenly became imminent. Another meeting with Randy-The-Social worker. He'd delayed them starting at their normal time by checking the time on his iPhone and typing out a text messages, his stupid mustache drooping irritably.

Gerard lay back in his bed and closed his eyes, trying to block out the irritating click click of Randy's fingers on his keypad. He closed his eyes, and kept them closed when Randy put his phone away with a sigh and turned to him, obviously wanting to start.

"Gerard?"

He jogged his patient's shoulder. His sore one.

"I've got big news for you, champ"

It was people like Randy who ruined the little bit of peace Gerard had. He knew that he'd have to open his eyes, sit up and act like he gave a shit about how many hours of community service he'd have to do to to get out of jail.

He didn't want to face this God-awful reality, but he had to. Randy had woken him up from genuine sleep before to have a "talk", and Gerard knew he'd do it again. Randy smiled when he struggled into a sitting position.

"Atta boy. There's someone you need to meet, but she's running late."

Gerard blinked and waited for the idiot to continue. But just as Randy opened his mouth, probably to try out some psychological technique he'd learnt at collage, the ward door buzzed and a woman entered.

"Ah, here she is!" Randy had forgotten all about Gerard and basically jumped out of his seat to greet the woman and fucking lead her to the other chair, as if she couldn't walk on her own. Jesus, he was eyeing her up so enthusiastically it was _painfully_ embarrassing. He barely glanced at Gerard as introductions were being made, choosing instead to talk to the chick's chest, all the while thinking he was being _subtle._

It made Gerard sick, it really did. He was all-too-familiar with people like Fucking Randy, who held onto staid, responsible jobs like accountants, social workers and lawyers but were really just as creepy the next seedy fuck.

He guessed that he was lucky Randy clearly wasn't into guys.

Linda Iero was another Social Worker, but Gerard knew she wasn't using a fake name, because it was carefully embroidered onto the inside label of her handbag. And who made up a name like "Iero" anyway?

Maybe this is what made him like her. The honesty was refreshing after a whole three weeks of Fucking Randy. It only got better, because she immediately went on to tell him all about how technically she wasn't a "Mrs" or an "Iero" anymore, because she'd had a divorce.

"But I like to keep the 'Mrs' to keep things simple, and 'Iero' is my son's name; I want us to still sound like a family .

"Mrs Iero is proposing to be your foster parent," Fucking Randy cut in, filling Gerard with dread all over again. "the only way we can keep the Police from convicting you is if you spend some time in foster care, and if you say with Lin- _Mrs Iero _,__ you can still keep in regular contact with your real family."

Of course Randy was fucking grinning from ear to ear, his chest puffed out like he'd organized the whole thing, when in reality Gerard knew that the guy had probably only found out about this arrangement a couple of hours ago.

they'd all been talking about a foster placement for a good few weeks, but Gerard honestly hadn't expected anything to come out of it. The Social Service system was way too crowded as it was, so he had just assumed that the chance of someone willing to have him in their home after his latest stunt was next to nothing.

He remembered his agonising, three-week stay in some weird house two years ago. His gym teacher had ignored his forged doctor's note and made him change into the stupid shorts and tank top that they all had had to wear. He'd protested, but in the end the whole class saw him come out of the locker room, his arms covered in cuts.

Gerard knew that any normal kid wouldn't be put in foster care for cutting themselves. If that was the case, then there's be no room for anyone else. But Gerard was different. It hadn't been the first time he'd exhibited "anti-social behaviour" and his history didn't excuse him from locking himself in the bathroom stalls instead of going to lessons. He'd spent his year at that school refusing to speak and staring vacantly at anyone who tried to talk to him. The other kids had long since dismissed him as a "retard" and, as far as the teachers were concerned, he was just taking up valuable space. There'd been meetings at the hospital, but ultimately the school principle had refused to accept Gerard back to Blleville High unless he "got help." 

That help had transpired itself as twenty-one, hellish days in Camden with a retired couple. Gerard still remembered the sickly smell of washing detergent that the lady had used; she'd washed all his clothes the minute he'd arrived, so the scent clung to him the whole while he stayed there and for weeks after. Everything he did was surpervised, and he wasn't allowed so much as breathe near a knife or razor. At nine every night, they'd lock him in the spare room and tell him to go to bed. Living with those two retired social workers had been the lonliest experience of Gerard's short life, and he wondered, as his chest tightened nervously, if staying with this woman would be like being sent back to those same people.

 

A week later, Gerard didn't care that Mrs Iero had a son the same age as him, or that living in a strange house alone was probably going to kill him, he just wanted to leave this fucking hospital.

He could have cried with relief when he got into the strange car and the strange social worker started up the strange engine in order to take him to her strange house.

Fostering was just plain fucking awkward. Gerard hated being the weird, poor kid who everyone was nice to because their parents made them. The sense of isolation and not being part of some random, fake family came rushing back when Mrs. Iero flipped the car radio on and swung out of the Hospital parking lot.

He leaned back in his seat and prayed that this new _mom_ wouldn't make conversation. He seemed to be the only one feeling awkward though, because for the whole twenty minutes it took for the car to arrive at her house, Mrs Iero hummed and sang along to the 80's pop on the radio station. His head still hurt, but the pain in his chest had eased and his sore shoulder had been carefully taped and bandaged into a navy-blue sling.

The House seemed nice, quietly wealthy, but as Gerard was ushered through the doorway, he kept is head down and eyes firmly fixed on the plush carpet beneath his soggy sneakers.

"It's getting late," Mrs Iero said soothingly. "If you aren't too hungry, I could get you settled into your room and let you sleep?"

Above their heads, Gerard heard a loud thump.

"That's Frank," said his Foster mother. "It's his first week in Senior year, you know how it is", she rolled her eyes at another, louder thump: "I'm guessing he's busy"

Gerard didn't miss the way she smiled when she said the name of her son, as if she was saying _we won the lottery_ or _school's cancelled_. He wondered if his own mom wore a smile like that when she talked about him.

Probably not.

 

 

Ideally, Frank would have liked to be present when his mom came back from the hospital with Kid B/Gerard. But, because nothing ever turned out how Frank planned it, he was sprawled out on his bed and contemplating actually going to sleep when he heard the jangle of keys in the front door lock.

It was late, he knew that much. Frank was tired: he had spent the whole day putting up with the kind of shit a teenager is expected to put up with at school, with perhaps the added bonus of nuns. In the future, Frank would always regret not knowing the exact time; you always knew, for example, that it was 5:17PM or whatever when your super-bad-ass grandma came over to tell you that you're actually the Crown Princess of Genovia.

But, alas, Frank's alarm clock hadn't been working for weeks, so he'd just have to content himself with the fact that it was probably really fucking late. He rolled over onto his left side, nearest the wall, when he heart the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs.

One pair belonged to his mom (jerking off in a room without a lock had given him a sixth _holy-shit-my-mom's-coming_ sense in these matters) but the other pair he didn't recognize.

The mysterious footsteps shuffled as opposed to walked; they dragged along the hall carpet, past Frank's door and into the spare room beside his. So those footsteps must belong to Gerard.

Frank then pressed his ear right up against the wall, cool from the late summer breeze wafting in the open window. the walls were pretty fucking thick, so only someone like Frank (who had super-sensitive hearing) could make out his mom's comforting voice. She sounded like she was reassuring Gerard, her voice took on that soothing tone she used on Frank when he was sick.

Then he heard the low mumbled responses, and Frank thought it was strange how thick Gerard's voice sounded, almost as if he'd been crying.

Frank barely breathed as this went on for the next five or six minutes. Then, he heard the spare room door creak back open and the silhouette of his mother's socked-feet under the crack of the door. He watched her pause outside his bedroom, probably debating whether or not she should check up on him.

Frank silently lay back down and shut his eyes, faking deep, heavy breathing. Obviously he was a fucking Oscar-worthy actor, because his mom carried on along the hallway, and then back down the stairs.

If Frank hadn't spent the day actively attempting to rescue Ryan Ross from the clutches of the lacrosse team with only Pete for back-up, maybe he'd have stayed awake in case Gerard suddenly decided to talk to himself and reveal why he had been arrested (preferably loudly but Frank wasn't fussy).

It took him about ten minutes to realize that he was being a creep, and that Gerard was probably freaking out, what with being in some strange fucking house on his own.

Frank shifted onto his back and tried to pretend that he couldn't hear what sounded like muffled sobbing from the next room.

There was always tomorrow.


	5. Good Love Will Find Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By then Frank assumed that he simply wasn't ever going to officially meet Gerard. It wasn't like he wanted to be saddled with the guy 24/7, but after such fuss had been made, Frank did at least want to see what the unconventional guest looked like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found this chapter difficult. Frank and Gerard meeting is, obviously, ridiculously important and I didn't want to mess it up. I also think I've written as Frank too much, so the next chapter (and perhaps the one after) will be from Gerard's POV. The chapter title is a B-side from a band called The Maine!

It had been four days since Frank had heard Gerard crying. After that he'd been virtually invisible, and Frank was beginning to think that his mother had made the kid up.

But then again, he had felt his presence all too well.

The evening after Gerard's first night Frank rounded the street corner after walking home from school and spotted his mom getting into the car, one hand on a smaller figure's back.

Almost six hours later he caught a glimpse of messy black hair, and a pale arm dangling from the couch when he entered the living room. His mom waved him out, looking panicked, so Frank made a rapid back-pedal up to his room. 

He sat on his bed for a good forty minutes, mulling over the unfair-ness of it all, and how he couldn't even watch T.V in his own house any more. Then, he heard Gerard's now-familiar shuffling footsteps retreat into the spare room, and Frank knew that the coast was clear.

By then Frank assumed that he simply wasn't ever going to officially meet Gerard. It wasn't like he wanted to be saddled with the guy 24/7, but after such fuss had been made, Frank did at least want to see what the unconventional guest looked like.

Besides, Ray, Bob and Pete had started asking about him, and Frank felt like an idiot when all he could say in response was: _he has black hair and at least one arm._

So, considering all the evidence that Kid B had a knack for staying out of sight, the last person he expected to see when he padded into the sunny kitchen on an early saturday morning was Gerard.

Frank felt himself freeze and his cheeks go red. God, he was not ready to meet this kid.

For one thing, he was still wearing his ratty  _It's always sunny in San Diego_ T-Shirt (which was starting to smell after three days of pretending to be pajamas), and his _Family Guy_ lounge pants. Not the ideal impression he wanted to make.

Gerard was seated at the table, already dressed, his head drooping down so that all Frank could see was that shaggy black hair that looked like it went past his chin. His hands resembled bony, pale spiders and were curled tightly around a mug of coffee. The long-sleeved, grey shirt he was huddled into seemed far too big: but Frank could still make out the sharp lines and shoulder blades jutting out, almost like tiny wings.

The shirt kind of looked familiar, and Frank thought that he might have seen it on one of the popular kids at the mall, which meant that it was probably new and expensive.

But all of Frank's preconceptions and mental images of Gerard had been swept away. Gerard really _did_ look fragile, and it occurred to Frank that he might be asleep where he sat (that would at least explain the head-drooping). He stood for a minute, not knowing what the hell he was supposed to do.

A small part of him wanted to see what Gerard's face was like; maybe he could have an actual conversation with him and get all of the awkward-ness away.

But the much bigger, saner side of Frank wanted to run out of the kitchen and go back upstairs; Gerard clearly hadn't noticed him and he was probably due for some appointment.

Frank took a step back, and his bare foot collided with the corner of the fridge. hard.

"Jesus, fucking, cock-sucking  _Christ_!" Frank yelled, and the pain was so intense he didn't give a shit about how his mom could probably hear him from upstairs, or that there was a strange kid sitting right in front of him.

He heard a muted gasp as he massaged his big toe, and it was only then that Frank remembered Gerard was sitting across from him.

"Fuck!"

Frank scrambled to his feet and attempted to smile, but it probably just made him look even crazier than he already did.

"Hi, um, I'm Frank... and, um, you're Gerard... jeez...fuck, sorry... um"

Gerard was cringing back in his seat, his hair out of his face. If Frank wasn't hideously embarrassed then he would have taken time to study the small, slightly upturned nose and large, wide, shiny eyes. Gerard was really, well, _girly_ looking and Frank didn't know if he was chalk-white all the time, or if this vampire-complexion was because he was so nervous.

He almost cracked a smile at his previous imaginary steroid-gym-Gerard because, really, this kid looked about fourteen at the most. Frank was considered short compared to most of his peers, but even he could probably take this guy one handed.

He suddenly felt really bad all over again. He's been a whiny fuck to his mother for letting Gerard stay with them for the last few weeks, and now he was thinking about beating him up?

Gerard was clearly nervous. He carried on staring at Frank with those wide, brown eyes as if he'd never seen another person before.

"Hey," Frank took a few steps forward. "Are you okay?"

He wondered why Gerard was cold. The kitchen contained the best heater, so it was normally the warmest room in the whole house.

Frank watched as Gerard ducked his head, mumbling indistinctly, and then it dawned on him that Gerard wasn't shivering because he was cold.

"I... Hey, um..."

Frank tried to explain that we wasn't gonna smear the blood from his now-bleeding toe across his face as war paint and sprint up the kitchen wall; he tried to say that he was normal, and yeah, he might look like he was going to tear someone's heart out, but he really wasn't.

This came out as more stutters though, and Gerard was squirming in his seat when Mrs Iero poked her head around the door frame.

"I heard some very questionable language, Frank- oh."

Her expression became confused as she regarded the two boys: Gerard, looking like he was going to have a nervous break down, and Frank, nursing his injured toe.

"I have algebra homework," her son said abruptly, rushing out of the room.

Linda turned to Gerard, who was determinedly avoiding her eye.

"You ready to go, sweetie? we're running a little late."


	6. Horrible Kids.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When he and Mikey were younger, they had lived and breathed their comic book heroes. The two brothers had spent hours every day re-enacting their favorite scenes. Gerard didn't know what he would give to go back to those days, before Mikey's asthma developed into something way more sinister, and before he'd been sent off to stay with Uncle Will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this story is progressing really slowly, but I think it's important to build things up and take your time. The Chapter name is the title of an EP by Set It Off.

Therapy had always been uncomfortable, from the very first time he had been subjected to it aged thirteen. Sitting in a too-small white room with some abstract picture of an apple glaring at him the whole time and a patronizing shrink making assumptions about him when she knew nothing  _at all_ , Gerard felt like he had suddenly been ushered on stage with a very bright spotlight. And he hated it. 

He fiddled with the sleeve of his new sweater and tried not to duck his head too much when he was asked the simple questions: _rate your mood from one to ten, are you settling into your foster home?, how has your week been?..._

He didn't even mind Dr Cosa. She never tried to force him to talk about anything he didn't want to, but Gerard found it hard to talk about anything, full stop.

He hated how he couldn't talk to anyone; the way that he flinched when someone slammed a door or how he couldn't help but jump at every loud noise. He hated how his voice shook or broke when he wanted to say something, or his tendency (particularly when confronted with people he didn't know) to trip and stumble over the easiest words.

 

 

He was having this problem right now; Dr Cosa was sitting across from him, clipboard at the ready, and he was at a loss for what to say.

"Are you still having trouble sleeping, since you've been discharged?" 

She already knew about his night terrors at the hospital, and Gerard didn't want to have to describe the new ones.

He cleared his throat. "Well, it's...um...gotten better. I usually don't sleep b-because of, um...headaches, y'know..."

She nodded, scribbling away on the clipboard, and Gerard took this as a sign to continue.

"They get bad at night, wh-when I'm in bed.  But I'm having, like, not dreams...um, they're memories. Flashbacks?

Dr Cosa frowned.

"Post traumatic stress is expected, Gerard. You've got to bear in mind that what happened was a by-product of what you experienced when you were much younger."

Gerard just nodded, chewing on a thumbnail.

"I feel worse," he confessed. "I used to be able to push it away, b-but I can't anymo..anymore. It's...I'm...messed up; It's... _I'm_ t-too late to fix somehow."

This evoked another furious round of scribbles on the clipboard.

Gerard stayed slumped in his seat while his therapist surveyed him with the air of a mother who was apprehending her creative yet wayward child.

"You need to stay positive," she urged. "If you continue keeping a journal to track your moods and the circumstances they involve, you can look back on them and figure out what makes you feel so...hopeless"

_Hopeless was a good word_ , Gerard thought dully.

Dr Cosa was fighting a losing battle.

 

The usual sense of doom that only a good, long counselling session could give him was still present as they drove back to the house.

Gerard was letting his mind drift, and it came abruptly to Frank. He had nice, brown eyes, they looked friendly, but he wasn't so sure. He'd given him a fright that morning, but he probably thought Gerard was retarded or something by now. After all, Frank had probably just been trying to be nice, and he'd just sat there like an idiot.

He cleared his throat.

"Mrs Iero, um-"

"It's  _Linda_ , honey," his foster mother flicked the indicator chuckled. "'Mrs Iero' makes me nervous"

S-sure. Um, what school does...does your son go to?"

"Frank?" Linda looked surprised, and Gerard guessed that it was a bit of a random question. 

"Yeah, I just wondered."

"Queen Of Peace...you know it? It's good for getting the right grades, but he hates it. Then again, no teenager really likes school."

She suddenly frowned and glanced at him as though something had just occurred to her.

"Frank didn't bother you this morning, did he? He can be a bit funny sometimes and-"

"N-no!"

Everything felt wrong, and Gerard didn't want to get Frank into trouble when all he'd tried to do was be friendly.

"Frank...is nice, I was just wondering about...about school," he finished lamely. He wondered if Frank was one of those really smart, straight edge kids. Gerard felt a pang of sadness as he pictured the guy having friends, getting A's, being  _normal_. 

There had been a point when he had wanted to do well in his studies; Gerard had been fairly good at English, but school became unbearable and embarrassing once he'd blown everyone there, so he gave up and resigned himself to being dumb.

Linda's voice brought him back to reality.

"Just but don't feel obliged to keep him out of trouble".

 

 

Gerard felt tired and sluggish, so when they returned he went straight to his room. He hadn't slept well last night, and if he was lucky he could have a good long nap without any headaches or bad dreams.

He was in the hall, one hand out to push his door open, when Frank came out of the adjacent bathroom.

"Gerard! hey!"

_Don't panic_ , Gerard told himself.

Frank was maybe a few inches shorter than him, but he was the kind of person who practically _radiated_ confidence. From the quick glimpse Gerard had had of Linda's son a few hours earlier, he vaguely thought that the dude looked like someone who you used to be friends with in sixth grade, but your mom told you to stop hanging out with after he smashed all of the next-door neighbor's windows. Frank could be one of the kids that used to trip him up in the school hallways: he had the careless vibe that would have pinned him as popular if it hadn't been for the black nail varnish and scruffy Mohawk.

Gerard felt his heart rate increase. He clenched his fists and smiled.

"H-Hi"

He leaned back against his door, hoping that whatever the guy wanted, it would be quick. Frank was looking at him expectantly and, all of a sudden, he was incredibly tongue-tied.

"I was...was just back from um... the..."

Why was he stuttering? God, he couldn't say the fucking word, not that he wanted Frank to know he went to therapy, but it was kind of fucking obvious".

Frank was way too fucking close. Gerard could see how his eyes crinkled up and left little tiny lines, as though he laughed a lot. He could see the tiny fair hairs on the bridge of his nose.

"The hospital?" Frank prompted and, relieved, Gerard nodded.

"You're not wearing your sling anymore, did you... like, break your arm?"

"My collarbone," Gerard whispered. He brought his hand up to massage the newly-healed clavicle. "It wasn't a bad f-fracture".

"Cool!" Gerard jumped as he heard Linda call Frank's name.

"Moms, huh?" Frank rolled his eyes and started down the stairs. "See you later, dude."

"Later," Gerard echoed. "Bye."

Frank then bounded out of sight, leaving Gerard slightly shell-shocked. He rubbed at his shoulder area again, and blinked a few times, because Frank was clearly paying closer attention to him than he had originally thought, if he remembered the sling Gerard had worn on his first few days.

Was Frank making fun of him? It was hard to tell, what if he was just a nice guy? Sighing, Gerard retreated back to his room and flopped down to onto the neatly-made bed. Nervously, his eyes darted to the door: firmly shut. What if Frank opened it and came in to talk to him again? What would he say? Despite years of school, he wasn't good at talking to people his own age. And other boys: they were even worse. Girls tended to leave you alone but guys were confrontational. They grabbed you by the hair in the hallways, they punched you in the stomach at the back of the classroom.

And when they got older, they _really hurt you._

Terrified, Gerard stuck his index finger into his mouth, gnawing at the already blunt nail. He'd begun to progress to the skin surrounding the white tip, so now his fingers were covered with dents and bite marks, from the very tip right down to his frayed cuticles.

Mrs Iero didn't know him well enough to tell him off for his addictive habit, so he was safe in that respect, at least.

He wanted, more than anything, to sleep. The idea of forgetting he existed and the allure of rest was tantalizing, but he knew what would happen. 

He would dream of hot breath on his neck, the increasing pressure as his shoulder were held down and that awful, stabbing pain...

Gerard started with a jerk and sat up gingerly. He couldn't fall asleep, he  _couldn't_. He needed to distract himself, he needed to think of other things.

He was supposed to be visiting Mikey tonight, and that thought made him calmer. His brother was way smarter than him. He had actual friends and always knew how to solve a problem if it involved people.

Unlike Gerard. Gerard was useless at most stuff unless it required doing or saying stupid things, he was a real pro at that.

Besides, Mikey had sent him an email  only a few days ago reminding him to return that comic he borrowed, and maybe they could talk about it together.

Yes, he'd go see Mikey and apologize for nearly killing him the month before.

This thought reminded Gerard of his plan, and his eyes suddenly burned with tears. He'd miss the fuck out of Mikey, and his mom.

But it really was for the best.

He rubbed at his temples, which were, once again, beginning to throb.

 

 

 

"I think you're overreacting." 

Gerard was seated at the end of Mikey's bed, cross-legged with the comic he had borrowed in front of him. He rolled his eyes, but didn't bother with contradictions.

"Frank doesn't sound like an asshole who'd laugh at you behind your back or anything, and besides, you either live there or you stay in the shitty visitors center with mom, and I really would not recommend that."

"I know I need to stay there," Gerard sighed. "But I'm just... this.... stranger living in their home, and he's probably only being nice because his mom told him to be."

At this, Mikey raised an eyebrow. Gerard guessed that being ill all the time made the younger Way focus on the important stuff. He had that  _whatever-my-lung-could-collapse-and-I-could-be-dead-tomorrow_  kind of attitude which probably caused his own worries to seem like the dumbest things ever.

Mikey looked better than Gerard had expected. He'd tried to say sorry the minute he had entered his brother's ward, but his words were rebuked until even he was almost convinced that maybe,  _maybe_  the whole lung-thing wasn't down to him.

Of course, Mikey was more keen to ask how he had been, and Gerard knew he was worried about him. He honesty didn't know why Mikey wasn't ashamed of him, because if he had an older brother who did the stuff he had done, he wouldn't have wanted anything to do with him.

"Enough about me, seriously," Gerard said evasively, after almost half an hour of questioning. "I fucking loved the comic, and I really thought it would be shit, y'know? what with being a sequel and all."

He wanted, just this once, to have a normal conversation. Back when he and Mikey were younger they had lived and breathed their comic book heroes. The two brothers had spent hours every day re-enacting their favorite scenes. Gerard didn't know what he would give to go back to those days, before Mikey's asthma developed into something way more sinister, and before he'd been sent off to stay with Uncle Will.

Sitting with Mikey, even in a place as cold and emotionless as this damn hospital, helped Gerard forget his plan, and the knot of worry and stress, that had lay coiled in his stomach all week, loosened.

In short, he hadn't felt this good in a long, long time. 

An hour later, Linda and his mom arrived, and Gerard had to say goodbye to his brother. He forced himself to smile and act like he'd be back next week, like it wasn't the last time he'd ever see Mikey again.

"Calm down dude, you'll see me soon, yeah?" Mikey looked slightly embarrassed at Gerard's emotional farewell. "I'll lend you this other series, if you liked that one you'll love what I've got, next week?"

Gerard nodded and smiled, raising his hand in an awkward wave.

"Sure Mikes. See you."

 


	7. Do I Wanna Know?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He guessed that if Gerard was feeling low, it was partly his job to lift his mood back up again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a bit of a filler one. I wanted to keep the tension present and make sure that Gerard's fears were still clear, because stuff actually starts to happen after this chapter.  
> the title is the latest song from one of my favourite bands, The Arctic Monkeys!

It was only early evening when they got back from the hospital. Gerard raced up the stairs to the security of his room. He didn't have anything against Frank, but he was exhausted and, honestly, he felt like if someone said a word to him he'd start crying.

He dug around in his duffel bag for a book. Gerard honestly didn't know how long he thought he could evade sleep and the consequential nightmares, but he had to try. 

 

He could scream or talk in his sleep or _worse_ , and the thought of Frank hearing him in the next room caused a hot flush to spread across his face.

But he'd gone without rest for so long, an his bed was soft under his tired body. Gerard yawned and tried to sit up, to shift himself into a position less comfortable. He had to stay awake.

 

_He was trapped. His face was mushed into carpet and his whole body contorted with flashes of pain. He tried to cry out but his vision spun and lurched, leaving him breathless and unable to speak._

_The fear was the worst. Gerard could feel his hands curling into fists, and then his fingers raking across the hairy carpet: trying to escape._

_"Shhh, Gerard, there's a good boy."_

_The next thing he knew, he seemed to have taken all the pain in his body and stored it in his head. He cried out. He wanted everything to end, he'd do anything to stop the pain..."_

 

"Gerard!"

Linda Iero was gripping him, supporting his sagging shoulders. It took a good minute for Gerard to realize where he was, to remember that he had fallen asleep.

"Gerard, it's okay, it was a dream, sweetie. Just relax."

His head was killing him, and he seemed to have fallen off the bed and onto the floor. Shakily, Gerard attempted to get up.

"G-gonna...be sick."

After two rounds of throwing up in the upstairs bathroom, he felt better. His head was still throbbing, making it difficult to distinguish what exactly was going on. Still, he allowed Linda to lead him downstairs and sit him on the couch with a blanket, a glass of water and a couple if aspirins.

Linda had an facial expression that was unreadable. But after a few seconds of watching Gerard slumped on the couch, shaking like a leaf, she spoke.

"Why didn't you tell me that the nightmares were such an issue?"

Gerard didn't really know what to say. He wasn't one for pouring his heart out to near strangers, so he simply shrugged.

Linda sighed. "You need to talk to Dr. Cosa, honey. There's things she can do to help; you don't jut have to put up with it, and you need to sleep."

"I can't just... _stop_ _dreaming,_ " Gerard whispered hopelessly.

"You can get medication to help you sleep, and you can talk to your doctor about the dreams. If what happened stops scaring you, you won't dream about it."

Her hand was on his knee, and although his head was still aching and his stomach twisting uneasily, Gerard felt a little calmer.

He nodded and Linda gave him a small smile.

"I'll make an appointment for first thing tomorrow," she spoke softly, and then she turned on the TV and left him to doze.

 

 

It was much later when Frank stuck his keys in the door and entered the home. The lights upstairs were off, but the single glow of the kitchen lamp told him that his mom was still up.

Sure enough, she was seated at the table, in the very spot Gerard had been when Frank had first laid eyes on him. 

His mom had her laptop open, and she looked exhausted as well as busy.

"You okay, mom?"

 

Linda looked up, and her face broke into a smile when she saw Frank, his hair gelled and lip ring in place.

"Fine hon, a little tired. How was your night?"

"Good," Frank sat down opposite his mother. He knew that something was up, and he suddenly felt guilty. 

"Seriously mom, what's wrong? you're never up this late."

Linda Iero sighed and closed her laptop with a snap. She surveyed her son, eyes big and accusing. There wasn't any point in hiding her problems from him.

"Gerard hasn't been well. It's those headaches he gets, they worry me."

Frank frowned. When it came to Gerard, he just didn't know what to say, mostly because he didn't know anything about him or why he had been in a coma for a week.

"It'll work out fine, mom. It's probably just, like, a side effect from when he hit his head or whatever."

"He just isn't feeling good, and I'm so scared that he'll hurt himself."

This took Frank aback. His mom had always insisted that Gerard's issues were confidential, and now she was telling him he was in danger of hurting himself?

Maybe his surprise showed on his face, because his mother cleared her throat and stood up.

 

"It's just that time of night; everything feels a bit bleak. Don't worry about Gerard, honey, he'll be fine. He's got a great team of people looking after him, and soon he'll be on his feet again."

He nodded, and kissed his mom before heading to bed. He had school tomorrow, and a history essay he'd completely forgotten to do. He could always copy Ray's in homeroom."

Frank couldn't help pressing his ear to the spare room door; his mom had said that Gerard was feeling bad, so he was a little surprised, yet relieved, to hear silence on the other side of the door.

One thing was certain, Frank thought as he undressed, he couldn't let his mom cope with all this stress alone anymore. 

He guessed that if Gerard was feeling low, it was partly his job to lift his mood back up again.


	8. Teen Spirit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He looked incredibly young and innocent, so unlike the troubled, miserable and terrified person he had seen so far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe that people are actually giving this kudos! I don't know what I'm doing half the time, and I think that it's definitely, by far, not one of the best things I've written. I feel uncomfortable using character templates of people who exist in real life... but enough rambling, enjoy!!

It was around three days since Frank had decided to make an effort with Gerard, and maybe five since he'd actually had a conversation with him. Frank's brilliant plan to help his mom out with the dude required him to skip his first two morning periods, because their guest was usually still fast asleep when he was heading out the door to catch the bus.

This research told Frank that Gerard probably got up late, and his theory was proved correct when he heard the hesitant footsteps coming down the stairs at nearly one in the afternoon.

Gerard entered the kitchen cautiously, and upon spotting Frank, he did that rapid-blinking-thing and stumbled backwards.

"I'm sorry... I didn't... I thought th-that-"

"Hey, no no no!"

Frank rushed to correct Gerard's view of him as a psychopathic asshole, and noted, in dismay, the way the guy actually fucking _flinched_ when he came near.

"I have home study," the lie came just as easily as it has when he had said the same thing to his mom earlier, and she had been way too frazzled to follow his claim up.

He tried to be calm, because that would make at least one of them. "I was just about to go in, though...um..."

There was no way Frank could possibly tell that Gerard was staring at him with something besides fear. Frank didn't have a clue that Gerard could see way too much skin, because Frank was standing there clad only in boxers and a semi-transparent white school shirt.

Gerard didn't want to be attracted to this guy he didn't even know, even if it was only physical. It was too soon, and he didn't ever want to see Frank's face, twisted and distorted by anger, pinning him down and hurting him...

"It's okay, man. I just wanted to know if you um, wanted to hang out with me and my friends tonight?"

But Gerard was already shaking his head, his large eyes confused and fearful. Frank didn't know why he felt such a strong surge of disappointment, he was only doing this to help out his mother. He tried again.

"Hey c'mon, it'll be fun, I swear. It won't be a big party or anything; just five friends and some video games. Please Gerard, you need to get out."

He was aware that he was crowding the poor kid, and probably scaring him to death.

Gerard's lips were quivering, desperately looking around for an escape route. Frank knew that he would do anything to be alone again. Why he was so averse to company, he wasn't sure. There was no way Frank could see what Gerard was thinking, no way that _he_ could see the images flashing through Gerard's mind of being younger; being dragged out to parties and humiliated.

"S-s-sure, to-tonight."

"Great!" Frank slapped him on the back and raced out if the kitchen to get dressed. After all, he was so fucking late.

 

The bus was slow, and took a diverted route instead of the normal, pothole-free commute. This made his "mother's" handwriting in his absence letter illegible and not very believable, but he really couldn't care less.

At the very least, he wouldn't have to copy up that history essay because he'd missed the whole goddam class, and he'd make it in just in time for lunch; he'd tell the guys that they would finally get to meet the elusive Gerard.

 

"Just beer though," Frank could see Pete's face dropping in disappointment. He didn't know how Gerard would react if Toro pulled a bag of weed out half way through their gathering, and he really didn't want to take any chances.

The final bell had just rung, and the four of them were heading to the parking lot. Bob had his hood up and head down because he was supposed to be staying an hour for detention, and the last thing he wanted was a teacher to spot him and put a stop to their plans, or at least a delay. He lifted his head and scowled when Pete carried on protesting.

"You said Gerard was shy, it'd mellow him out! y'know Patrick's brother can hook me up any time!"

"For God's sake, Frank said no! I don't want to stink for the next three days."

"You wouldn't stink if you fucking showered", Pete retaliated. He heaved a sigh of defeat."Fine, whatever, you guys are pussies"

"Who the fuck gets high on a  _Monday night_  anyway?"

The bickering continued and Frank and Ray fought to keep a straight face. Pete was a nice guy, but he was also the kind of kid who constantly spammed their Instagrams with pictures of his dope.

They were going to meet at Pete's house in three hours, and forget about the fact that they had all had tests tomorrow, because what was better than done good, old-fashioned procrastination?

Frank had his physics book open on the passenger seat as he drove home, and he stole glances at it whenever he drew a red light, blasting Nirvana the whole way home. He pulled up on the curb and hopped out, making sure to store the study guide under the dashboard so Gerard wouldn't see it.

He laughed at Pete for constantly talking about being stoned, yet he didn't want anyone seeing him actually revising. 

Smirking at the irony and hating himself for being such a fucking _poser_ , Frank checked "studying" off his mental to-do list and rang the doorbell.

 

 

He thought he'd planned the whole "showing Gerard a good time" thing perfectly, but he'd completely forgotten the biggest problem of all.

"I'm not an idiot, Frank. I know that you and your friends drink and _God knows_ what else; Gerard just isn't in the state to cope with that. He's sick!"

"Mom," Frank put on his best 'responsible' face. "He's _lonely_ , you said so yourself. It'll just be pizza and soda, I swear. I've done all my school work and, besides," Frank delivered the killer line. "Gerard gets to socialize and you get a night off."

He couldn't believe how easily his mom relented. A phone call to Gerard's therapist, Mrs Wentz (who wouldn't even _be_ there) and some dude named Randy later, and Frank had been cleared for take off.

His was still thinking up more shitty plane analogies as he knocked on Gerard's door two hours later.

"We're gonna be leaving soon, you ready?"

Gerard looked like he'd just woken up. He was swaddled in a dressing gown, his bare feet swinging idly as he sat at the little desk opposite his bed. 

Predictably, he jumped at the sound of Frank's voice.

"Um, what?"

"To leave", Frank said patiently, "you're coming out with me tonight, remember?"

"Oh, that..."

Frank came closer and, defensively, Gerard covered whatever he'd been doing at the desk with his arms.

"I just..." He fidgeted nervously. "Y-your mom w-won't let me go, probably."

"Nope, I've fixed it with her and he's totally cool!"

Frank couldn't help feeling triumphant: Gerard was gonna have a good time tonight, whether he wanted to or not.

"But I'm not dressed!" Gerard seemed to realize that Frank wasn't going to let him off, and his voice was tinged with panic as he grappled with excuses.

"No biggie, we've got time." 

Frank glanced around the room. Gerard hadn't made use of the wardrobe along the opposite wall; his clothes resided in the shopping bags they must have been bought in, folded neatly with their labels still attached.

"You don't have to wear anything special," he added. "How come you haven't, like, packed your stuff away?"

"It's... not my stuff," Gerard seemed to have resigned himself to the fact that he wasn't getting rid of Frank. "I um, they b-bought me lots of new clothes wh-when I was... discharged."

Frank didn't know who "they" were, but it sounded pretty fucking rad to him.

"I love this shirt!" It was one of those vintage Misfits prints. He held the item up.

"You like Misfits?"

Gerard nodded jerkily. "It was on sale at Hot Topic."

He didn't seem to want to look at Frank, preferring instead the view of his pale feet.

Frank looked around the spare room. During the months leading up to his dad's departure, it had been gloomy and untidy with all your typical "dad" smells. Aftershave and dust, unasserted masculinity, whatever. Now, the small room was much cleaner, as his mother had spent, like, three whole days cleaning it from top to bottom. Gerard didn't seem to occupy much space, or leave any kind of permanent impression upon the parts of the room he did use. The bed had been carefully made and a single sheet of paper lay exactly in the center of the desk. A frayed Duffel Bag was partially stashed under the bed, some bottles and tubes of pills were stacked (sides just touching) on the shelf and he could make out numerous bags of clothes at the far end of the room beside the wardrobe: clearly unwanted yet expensive.

He suddenly felt really fucking sad, because he really couldn't imagine spending all his time in this cramped room, lying in bed and trying to pretend that he didn't have to get up and dress in clothes he didn't want to wear, or take so many pills it made him woozy. 

"Just come down when you're ready and we'll get going, kay?"

He made sure his voice was softer, _nicer_ , and left Gerard to dress while he waited in the car.

 

Maybe ten minutes later, Gerard appeared, nervously approaching Frank's battered jeep. He was wearing a much older, rattier-looking _Madonna_ shirt, complete with washed-out blue jeans that had to be held up with a belt.

He held the door for the boy like the fucking gentleman he was, and cranked _Enema Of The State_ as high as the ancient stereo would allow once Gerard had settled into the cracked, leather passenger seat.

Frank loved his ancient car. Sure, it stank of cigarettes and sweat and god knows what else, the the felt ceiling was encrusted with gig flyers and band stickers, but it was _his_ and that was all that mattered.

He doubted that Gerard felt the same way though, because his knuckles went white as he gripped the arm rest when Frank stared up the engine.

"It's a hunk of shit, I know," he apologized. "My dad was gonna fix it with me, but then he divorced my mom  and moved to Florida."

He made sure to keep his tone neutral when he said this, because it wasn't as if he cared about never seeing is own father anymore. Sometimes it still felt like he was fourteen, and his dad had gone to stay with his uncle up-state "just for a couple for weeks, to let things settle down." He didn't like to think about his dad's new, six-months-pregnant wife.

"My dad left my mom a few years ago," said Gerard quietly. "He was a mechanic, so he could have fixed your car."

"I guess he could have."

The rest of the ride was in silence, but it wasn't necessarily uncomfortable. Frank hummed along to Blink 182, and Gerard tapped his palm against his thigh, all in perfect time with the syncopated drums.

He grew unsettled as Frank slowed down in front of Pete's house, shutting of the CD player so that the music died abruptly.

"Can't I just, like," he fingered his seat belt and avoided Frank's eye. "Stay in the...the car?"

"What? No way! C'mon, it'll be fun, I promise."

He half expected Gerard to make a run for it, off into the night as they walked up Pete's drive. He heard him give a breathy gasp when Frank rung the doorbell, and knew, when Pete's silhouette in the rippled front door glass drew nearer, that he was probably trembling.

"Frank! You're late, you fucker!"

Pete's smile was a mile wide as he took them both in. He raised a hand and gave Gerard a small wave.

"Hey. Cool shirt."

Gerard looked down, as though he had forgotten what he was wearing, and then crossed his arms over his chest. 

"It's my brother's," he said. His tone was defensive, and he took a step back as he spoke as though this was the final straw, and he was about to go right back to Frank's house. Frank instead pulled him forward and into the hallway, giving Gerard a reassuring smile in order to convey that everything was fine. He supposed that if you didn't know Pete, you'd probably find him a bit intimidating. The Madonna comment was exactly the kind of thing a stranger would interpret as sarcasm, but instead, as Frank knew, merely served as testimony to the _Like A Virgin_ album displayed neatly on Pete's shelf above his bed.

They trooped upstairs into Pete's large and rather grungy bedroom. Ray and Bob were already sprawled out in the floor, their fingers twitching over the x-box controllers. 

Frank did the usual "what's up" routine before remembering Gerard. He was hovering in the doorway, glaring at his shoes; fists clenched and face red.

"Gerard, this is Ray, Bob and Pete." The three boys waved, and Bob actually smiled. 

"Sit here, man," Pete pulled up a beanie bag before throwing himself onto his bed. Gerard sat down tentatively, and Frank decided to stay near him in case he had a nervous breakdown or something.

He had expected it to be awkward, and sure enough, Gerard mumbled and stuttered incomprehensibly when the others tried to engage him in conversation. But soon, with the help of beer and Pete's copy of Grand Theft Auto (which he insisted he had bought as a joke), they were soon yelling at the screen and laughing their asses off. Even Gerard seemed more relaxed. He had refused the beer but he had, at least, stopped shaking. His face had returned to its normal pale pallor and he wore a small smile as he watched Frank clumsily drive over a ravine.

By the time the pizza guy rang the doorbell they were on to Assassin's Creed. Frank had opted to stay sober, since he'd have to drive himself and Gerard back. He noted that the kid looked happier, and decided that it was safe to leave him with the guys alone while he went to the bathroom. 

"I'll be back in a sec."

Ignoring Gerard's looks of panic, he sauntered down stairs and took his time. He wanted Gerard to make friends, and because he couldn't hear gunshots or nuclear weapons, he guessed that it was going just fine. After all, Gerard was only a year younger than him. He probably acted so much younger because people treated him like that. By forcing Gerard to develop some social skills, Frank was doing him a huge favour.

Frank dawdled downstairs with Pete's two dogs for a good twenty minutes, and he nearly did a double take when he came back into the bedroom. 

Gerard had his hands wrapped tightly around the controller, his eyes narrowed with intensity as Ray, Bob and Pete cheered him on. Suddenly there was a great roar of triumph from Bob, and Ray had grabbed Gerard in a one-sided hug.

"Fuck, Frank!" Pete was positively levitating with excitement.

"Gerard got past that level we've been stuck on for fucking _weeks_!"

"He's a fucking wizard, I swear to God!"

Gerard's cheeks were tinted with pink, his hands shaking as he put the controller down next to him. He looked at the floor with glowing, pretty eyes and tried not to smile. The guy was adorable, with his glossy black hair and long, girly eyelashes, and Frank thought that he'd never seen anyone so gorgeous in his life.

"I play a lot with Mi-my b-brother" he tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear and smiled down into his lap.

"Well you can replace Frank, seriously dude, you're awesome." Said Ray, punching his shoulder.

"Oh, I see how it is!" Frank feigned hurt. "You'll regret that when I tell the whole school about the time you wrote _Sherlock fanfic!"_

The rest of the night was a haze of laughter, Gerard's shiny eyes and Gerard's shy smile.

Frank should have been confused, should have been surprised that he found another guy attractive, but everything felt so right and so perfect, he didn't have it in him to question his feelings right now. It all that the feeling of one of those awful 80s movies his mom made him watch with her, minus their unrealistic plot lines and stilted dialogue. Being here with his friends and Gerard was the most natural thing he could ever conceive, and whether he was just appreciating Gerard's unconventional attractiveness or whether he genuinely wanted to be more than friends was a problem for another evening.

It was past twelve when they stumbled back to his car, and Frank had never been happier. Gerard swayed a little as he climbed into the front seat, despite the fact that he hadn't had anything to drink. He fell asleep almost the minute he veered away from Pete's street, and Frank spent the journey back in a state of bliss, watching Gerard's breath condense against the passenger window and his eyelashes flutter. 

Now cue the cheesy music as he looked at Gerard's sleeping face smushed against the glass. Perhaps he'd think that Gerard looked _incredibly young and innocent, so unlike the troubled, miserable and terrified person he had seen so far._  


it was true, these thoughts _did_ flash through his head, but he dismissed them almost at once. Gerard wasn't really innocent at all. He'd been arrested. For the 100th time, Frank wondered why. Gerard could barely hold a conversation, how had he managed around the undoubtedly intimidating police? It made his fear of normal stuff like moms and friend's houses and _himself_ seem even more irrational. Gerard then wasn't afraid of the police and whatever criminal activity he'd been involved in, but he was terrified of him.

The thoughts made his head spin.


	9. You'll Be Sorry When I'm Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He missed the times when he'd look forward to things, when he hasn't given a fuck what other people said about him at school. Those times felt incredibly distant, and were replaced in his mind by a soothing voice. The voice was soft and gentle, and every day it got a little louder, telling Gerard that he had to end it all, before he lost his opportunity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm have to learn lines for my musical this week, so I have no idea how sporadic the next few updates will be. Please comment and tell me what you think, because I'm using the comments as guidelines, kind of. Thanks! The chapter title is from Adam's Song, Blink 182.

By September 10th, the weather had taken a turn for the worse. The mild fall afternoons, bathed in a rusty red-and-orange glow, had been replaced with biting winds and frost. Everyone said that it was a meteorological phenomenon, and the news stations made a profit by running hour-long bulletins about how New Jersey hadn't seen spells as cold as this in early September since the seventies.

To Gerard, it just served as Pathetic Fallacy. Frank had asked him to hang out twice since he'd taken him to Pete's house and both times he had refused. If it was just his refusal he felt like Frank wouldn't have been deterred, but the sudden influx of sleeping pills meant that he could barely get out of bed.

At least, that was why everyone thought he never came out of his room. In truth, Gerard felt like it was his time to carry out his plan.

He missed the times when he'd look forward to things, when he hasn't given a fuck what other people said about him at school. Those times felt incredibly distant, and were replaced in his mind by a soothing voice. The voice was soft and gentle, and every day it got a little louder, telling Gerard that he had to end it all, before he lost his opportunity.

In the end, it was that voice and the crippling fear of what was going to happen to him when, eventually, he left this house and went back to live with his mom and Mikey that made up his mind. He didn't have any qualifications, so when it came to making the decision to follow his plan through, Gerard comforted himself with the thought that it really was a case of sooner or later.

It was 11:32 at night when he was sure Linda and Frank were fast asleep. He dressed quietly: his khaki shorts and favourite hoodie. Every step he took, every creak of the stairs caused him to wince and stop, holding his breath. But no one woke up and stopped him, so he made it to the kitchen.

Gerard wanted as little pain as possible. He knew that it wouldn't be pleasant, but he'd feel less if he was drunk. With that in mind, he rummaged around the cupboards until he struck gold.

A solitary bottle of wine was in the top cabinet. It looked like it had been there for a while, but wasn't wine supposed to be better when it was older?

Gerard sniffed the bottle and, once satisfied, he looked for his pain killers. They weren't hard to find. He took the chalky white pills when his shoulder ached and his head hurt, but the large bottle was almost full.

Gerard almost wished that he was scared. He wanted to have second thoughts, he wanted to weep as he quietly unlocked the door and stepped out into the cold night. Instead, all he felt was crippling relief and the sudden overwhelming happiness that came with the realization that he'd never have to think about anything again; he could end it all.

He just needed to find a place where no one would find him, at least until it was too late. Gerard didn't know the area at all, and so his pace was fast when he set off.

 

 

One moment Frank was asleep, the next red and blue lights were blinding his vision. He grunted and buried his face in the pillow. It couldn't be time to get up, not yet.

After a few seconds of trying to guess the time, Frank concluded that no, it must be late at night or at least very early in the morning. His next realization was that the flashing lights were from police cars.

The sudden panic that Gerard, or even his mom, was in trouble got him out of bed and sprinting down the stairs.

Linda Iero was in the kitchen, talking to a somber cop. The whole place was bustling with activity. Two more police officers were barking commands into their radios, and some dude with a seventies-style mustache hovered behind his mother.

"Mom?"

Linda was pale, her face tight and drawn with worry. She stared at the sound of Frank's voice, and her chin trembled.

"Mom, what's happening?"

"Gerard's gone missing," said Mustache dude importantly. Linda blinked and, all of a sudden, she looked just like a scared little girl.

"I got up to turn off the stove, because I'd completely forgotten to do it," she said, her voice shaking. "And on the way back to the bedroom; I just thought I'd check up on him. But his bed was...empty."

Her voice caught in her throat, and Frank rushed to his mom's side. He felt the same panic, but the full on terror wouldn't set in until later.

"I'll go out and look for him," he said suddenly. "I know this town like the back of my hand, I'll find him!"

His mother shook her head firmly, and was about to speak when the Cop who had formerly been so occupied with his radio jumped in.

"Sorry to interrupt ma'am, but the more people looking for him the better, especially if he knows the area."

"Sure thing," Frank was forcing himself to stay calm, for his mothers sake. "What do I do when I find him?"

"If he's hurt, call an ambulance. If he's fine, call your mother."

The cop wasn't letting his mom get a word on edge ways, so Frank had grabbed his phone and threw on a coat before she could protest.

"I won't be long," he called reassuringly over his shoulder. Then, he slammed the door behind him.

Man, it was so fucking cold. Frank stumbled on until he had been walking for about fifteen minutes. Eventually, he left the neat rows of houses and came to the local park, nearly falling flat on his face when his foot came into contact with a glass bottle, but he pressed forward until the faded jungle jim in the kids play area loomed ahead.

Frank felt his blood freeze in his veins as he hurried to find Gerard and get back home. Bodies had been found in the lake by the park gates, what if Gerard had fallen in? He imagined him, white and still, lying on the muddy lake bottom, covered in weeds.

He was so focused on the smooth glassy water that he almost stepped in a sticky puddle. Frank swore and checked his shoes. He hated those fuckers that didn't clean up after their damn dogs, and was about to carry on when he realized that he hasn't almost stepped in dog shit.

It was blood.

"Oh God, oh God no."

Frank's heart was hammering as he ran forward to another, smaller splash of the same stuff, dark and menacing against the frosty ground.

There was also vomit, and flatted patches of grass, as if someone had been crawling instead of walking.

Frank scanned the grassy landscape, the river bank and the cold asphalt of the playground, but he couldn't see anyone. This might not be Gerard, but a gut instinct told him otherwise. He was dithering helplessly on the spot when he heard a low whimper.

"Gerard?!"

No reply. He strained his ears. Had it been the wind?

Then he heard a low, drawn out moan. A moan of pain.

"Fuck!"

Frank stared running, stumbling on the uneven ground in the pitch black of the night. It was like a horrible dream. Gerard was in pain and he couldn't fucking find him!

He was out of breath now, his legs aching from exertion as he raced forward into the denser, wilder part of the lakeside field.

Just when Frank was certain it was an awful dream, and that they were all going to die out in this cold, dark place alone, he spotted a crumpled figure on the ground, half hidden by the tangled grass.

"Hey...Gerard?!"

The dark haired boy was curled up on his side, one hand feebly clutching his stomach. Frank saw immediately that the blood and puke from earlier was indeed his; it spilled down the front of his hoodie and oozed from his mouth. For one, truly awful moment, Frank thought he was dead right there. His dark sweater sleeve was damp, and Frank immediately regretted hitching it up. Gerard's spindly arms were littered with cuts, some if which were deep and dark and pooled blood on the chilly grass and others that were clearly old wounds: thick, bumpy white ropes that mangled his pale skin.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck oh fuck oh _fuck_!"

Frank was kneeling there, staring at Gerard when he was probably coming closer and closer to death. Shakily, Frank pushed the matted hair out of Gerard's face. His eyes were half lidded: grey strips instead of eyeballs, and he was shivering uncontrollably.

Franks hands fumbled over the buttons of his cell-phone. Never had 911 been so hard to tap out. He'd call his mom in a second, first priority was getting Gerard to a hospital.

"Mmf... "

Frank froze. He had just hung up, and now Gerard was convulsing, his chest heaving.

"Ow... Fuck, Frank...hurts"

Before Frank could reply, he had gotten sick again. A thin stream of vomit was leaking onto the cold ground, and Gerard gagged as his body attempted to throw up more.

"Oh Fuck, Gerard shhh, everything's going to be okay, shhh..."

Frank tried to hold the shaking boy's head, but he moaned again in pain and cringed away.

"No please, please... Don't touch.."

"Okay, okay" frank had felt his eyes burning when Gerard had gotten sick, but he didn't realize he was crying until the tears splashed onto the grass.

"Why did he d-do it? Wh-why?"

Gerard was choking, his sobs coming out as terrified gasps. Frank really had no idea what he was talking about, but seeing Gerard, sobbing in a pool of his own blood and puke caused his own breath to become panicked, and his hands scrambled frantically to console the terrified boy.

"Everything's gonna be fine, shhh... Just hold on and-"

"I want to die," Gerard's nose was bleeding, and his eyes rolled backwards as Frank used his sleeve to dab at the blood.

"I took all the pills because I want to die," he choked, and Frank didn't know if Gerard was just saying this because he was delirious and in pain, or if this was a genuine, attempted suicide. Gerard clutched at frank, gasping and retching uncontrollably.

"I have t-to die, I-m...arrgh... y-you don't kn-argh-know what I-I've done. I'm s-so fu-fucked up."

"You don't mean that," he had managed to elevate Gerard's head onto his lap, and now his eyes were wide, staring straight up into the inky black sky.

"Planned it for weeks, I thought you'd never f-find m-m-me."

Then he threw up again, and watching Gerard's small body heave and shake from the effort of emptying his stomach, Frank honestly thought he was going to die, right there, in his arms.

He shook and cried as Gerard's eyes misted over, and combed his fingers through his hair.

By the time the paramedics had lifted Gerard into the ambulance, Frank was a sobbing mess.

He'd hated the idea of having to share his house with someone, and he thought of all those times he heard Gerard crying in the room next door.

Gerard had needed help and he had been too much of a selfish asshole to give it to him.

The paramedics had had to coax Frank into releasing his tight grip on Gerard, who was, by that time, unconscious.

Frank hadn't wanted to let him go, and he had never felt so protective of someone in his life.

As his mom hugged him tight, and Frank cried onto her shoulder, he made a vow to fix Gerard, even if it killed him.


	10. Foilé a Deux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He thought that visiting Gerard would satisfy the curiosity he felt whenever he saw the guy, reassure him that everything was going to be fine. Instead, he had glimpsed a kind of horror, and for the first time, Frank wondered if he even wanted to know about Gerard's past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry about the slow update. Our showing of "Little Shop Of Horrors" is in roughly five days so I've been massively busy learning lines and whatnot. Anyway, I won't abandon this, stuff might just be a little slower! I'm trying so hard to type like an American, because it's where the story is set and I want to be authentic. Tell me if you spot any extra "U's" hanging around! The chapter title is the name of an album from the band Fall Out Boy. It's also a french psychiatric term for "shared madness". Comments and Kudos are always appreciated!

Once again, Gerard wished that things were more like his favorite movies. He didn't close his eyes after drinking a pleasant amount of wine and wake up hours later in a soft bed, free of pain in whatever the afterlife consisted of and (if heaven did after all exist) an angel conveniently hovering above him. Instead, he spent a good ninety minutes throwing up in a field, stuffing the pills into his mouth and choking on his own vomit.

He was unbearably conscious while his stomach melted and Frank cried over him. Things hadn't meant to turn out like this. Frank wasn't supposed to be sad. He wasn't supposed to be crying. Then, he must have fainted because suddenly he was in an ambulance, on his way to the hospital. Gerard coughed up a lot of blood and shook all over as paramedics stuck needles and tubes into him, as if he was a power source for the whole damn city.

He remembered seeing Linda hovering over him, crying. He wanted to apologize for making both of them so upset, but his mouth wouldn't allow him to.

"I stole your wine," he slurred instead. "I'm sorry."

A blur of scrubs and white coats dashed before his eyes as he was dumped onto a gurney, and the the ceiling lights were whizzing above him as he was zoomed to God knows where. Gerard only got the peace he wanted in the first place when a figure stuck a long needle in his hip and he was lost consciousness at once, almost as if they had simply flicked out a light.

 

Frank skipped school the next day, choosing instead to sit in his room and wait for his mom to come home and tell him if Gerard was alive. He knew that she wouldn't be mad at him for playing hooky, because he the senior police officer had congratulated him for finding Gerard so quickly. Besides, it was a Friday.

His mom called around lunch time. She sounded as rough as Frank felt, and seemed to have expected him to pick up, which meant she couldn't be that pissed at him. Frank knew that she was also probably still glowing from the whole commendation he got from the cops last night ("your son is a fine upstanding young citizen") Still, he sudden found that he didn't really care about getting shit from his mom and the school as he gripped the phone while Linda reeled of foreign-sounding diagnostics.

"Wait wait wait," he tried to make sense of the doctor-speak. "What the hell is _gastric leverage_?"

It turned out that Gerard was not, despite his best efforts, dead. His stomach had been pumped and he was now reportedly sleeping off the remaining pills. Physically, he would make a full recovery.

The "physically" part worried Frank. It reminded him that there was a whole other side to Gerard's well-being that wasn't going to heal as easily as a broken bone would. Since that night, when Gerard had played video games with his friends, laughed and fallen asleep in his car, Frank couldn't lie to himself about how he felt. The problem was, he didn't know himself. Perhaps the mushy sensation in his stomach was pride or some kind of protective instinct. He certainly cared about Gerard, but maybe that care was platonic. Frank would then remember the pink cheeks, shiny eyes ad glossy hair and feel conflicted all over again. He didn't really care if he liked guys in general, but liking a suicidal, possible criminal was a whole other thing.

They both clearly had matters on their minds that evening, because when Frank sat down with his mother to some frozen microwave meal, they hardly talked.

"Do you want to come in to the hospital with me tomorrow?"

His mother looked exhausted, she kept rubbing her eyes and sighing. Frank felt guilty about staying off school, and maybe she didn't want him to come in with her tomorrow, but he jumped at the chance anyway. Frank's primary fear was that Gerard would hate him. He was, after all, the one who had stopped him fulfilling his "plan" and killing himself. Frank also suspected that he wouldn't buy that whole "it's for your own good" jargon: suicidal people tended not to.

 

The hospital was depressing as fuck. Walking into the ICU, the first thing that hit Frank was the smell. The stench of bleach was eye-watering, but still not strong enough to cover up the underlying odor of vomit.

Gerard himself was in the bed nearest the window; curled up in the same fetal stance Frank had found him in two days ago. His eyes were glazed over; thin tubes snaked their way out of his nose and a drip was taped to his wrist. Frank only realized that Gerard was awake when he rolled over and coughed. He felt himself freeze up, and he mentally prepared for Gerard's anger and hate. He met the tired eyes and opened his mouth, to say what, he had no clue, but the ward door beeped and another figure made his way over to Gerard's bed.

Frank stared in confusion as the boy, who looked barely old enough to be considered a teen, sat down heavily and picked up the newspaper lying on Gerard's tray. He was tall, with untidy sandy hair that stuck up at the front, perhaps with the assistance of some kind of gel. There was something familiar about him, something around the eyes and mouth that made Frank stay quiet and simply stare at this intruder, hoping someone would offer an explanation. Eventually, he sensed the stares and glanced up, meeting Frank's gaze. His eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"You're Frank."

It was an outright statement, not a question. Frank swallowed and nodded, before a light flicked on somewhere in his baffled brain.

"You're Mikey? Gerard's brother?"

"Yeah."

Mikey folded the paper and glanced at his older brother, "Gee talks about you a lot."

Gerard made a spluttering sound and tried to sit up. He struggled for a few seconds before he settled for fixing Mikey with a death-glare. Frank didn't miss that same pink flush he had seen before at Pete's house, and tried not to think about the butterflies in his stomach as Gerard asked Mikey where their mom was.

"Talking to your doctor, and that guy you hate...Randy, right?"

Gerard groaned. "D'you mind giving me and Frank a minute, Mikes? Go get some coffee or something." Mikey rolled his eyes and mooched out, leaving the two them alone once more. Gerard closed his eyes and let out a sigh, and under the bravado Frank saw a flash of hurt pass along his pale features. Then, the hurt was gone an Gerard's eyes snapped open.

"My mom will be back any minute," he said tonelessly. He motioned weakly to the previously inconspicuous CCTV camera perched in the ceiling corner. "They won't let me go back to stay with you and your mom, I guess that's a relief for you guys".

It was ironic. Until now, Frank had been the passive one. Now he was tongue-tied and stuttering like Gerard normally did. "I'm not relieved at all" he mumbled "I, um, brought you this".

He draped his brown woolly blanket over the end of the bed. Gerard's brow furrowed. "It's, like, my favorite blanket" Frank explained. He felt so stupid. "At least, I think it is. My mom has three of them and they're all identical but I think this is the one i keep on the end of my bed because it's like, the softest. I thought maybe, you'd like to borrow it. Everyone's saying that there's going to be some freaky cold-weather shit coming along soon. I mean, there already is."

"Thanks..."

Frank thought that he might have caught a glimpse of something a kin to amusement in Gerard's eyes. But the boy blinked so quickly that he wasn't sure.

He could tell that Gerard wanted to say something. He coughed, an awful hacking sound that shook his frail body and made Frank think that he was going to throw up; he then gasped and fended off Frank's offers of help, clearly trying to compose himself. Finally, Gerard's wheezing was down to a bare minimum, verging on normal breathing.

"I know you think I like, deserve to live or wh-whatever, but you're so wrong. You don't even f-fucking know, man. I-I've done such fucking _fucked up stuff_ , I honestly don't know why mom and M-Mikey haven't d-disowned me or...shit."

He shifted and clawed at his stomach, moaning in pain.

"Do you want me to get a nurse or-"

"No, they c-can't do shit anyway."

Gerard rocked back and forward for a few seconds. Then he continued: "I didn't want...you weren't supposed to see me like...that, y'know? I-I know you thought you were helping me out but you ah-shoulda just left me there, everything's so much worse now."

"No way," Frank responded fiercely. "I don't care who you murdered, you don't deserve to die like that!"

"You barely fuckin' _know_ me!"

Gerard's forehead was matted with sweat; his eyes gleamed as though he was a man possessed.

"Maybe I'll tell you sometime, then you'll get it. I... I wish I _had_ murdered someone, then they would have thrown me in jail for sure: jail's better than this hellhole."

Voices drowned Frank's next words out, and Mikey appeared, followed by the mustache dude from two nights ago, his mother and a tired, puffy-eyed lady with blonde hair he didn't recognize.

"Frank, we should get going now."

His mother was examining Gerard's medical chart. She patted the blonde woman's shoulder gently.

"we'll talk tonight, Donna."

"Can Gerard still stay with us when he's discharged?"

Frank directed the question at his mom, but the guy from two nights ago answered.

"Gerard's not mentally well enough to be anywhere but a hospital for the time being, we-"

"We haven't discussed anything solid yet."

Frank didn't miss the glare she threw at the guy (who had acted like Gerard wasn't ten fucking meters away from their conversation) that had just spoken. She then addressed Gerard directly.

"If you want to stay with us, then it's certainly an option, but, equally, you might want to stay with your mom, right?"

Gerard didn't seem used to being talked in a way which wasn't reminiscent of a very small child. He stared at Linda for a second blankly, before shrugging.

"At the moment, we need to focus on recovery."

she smiled at Gerard and gave Frank's shoulder a squeeze. "Let's go home now."

 

"Was that blonde lady Gerard's mom?" Frank asked, as his mom drove them home.

Linda nodded gravely. "That poor woman, she already had Mikey to worry about; she doesn't have the time for both her boys and its killing her. It isn't her fault, she's raising them alone and she still thinks she's a bad mom."

"Gerard really doesn't want to...be here," Frank mumbled. He watched his mothers expression change from empathy to concern, then fondness.

"I know, honey. He hasn't had it easy, but he'll get better".

Frank leaned against the cool car window. He felt the beginnings of a headache start plague his temples. He then remembered Gerard's awful migraines and absently wondered if they were somehow contagious.

At some point during his visit to the hospital it must have started raining, because by the time they left the industrial building, the rain was smacking violently off the parking lot tarmac. They had dived for the dry confines if the car, and even though they were over half way through their journey home, the relentless pouring was still going. He wondered how Gerard felt. The ambiance of the hospital had been unpleasant, but at least Frank got to leave. He got to go home and sleep in his bedroom, surrounded by _his_ things. Gerard had to spend days, even weeks, staring at an unfamiliar ceiling and smelling of bleach and puke. How were you supposed to get better in a place as soulless as that hospital ward? He thought that visiting Gerard would satisfy the curiosity he felt whenever he saw the guy, reassure him that everything was going to be fine. Instead, he had glimpsed a kind of horror, and for the first time, Frank wondered if he even wanted to know about Gerard's past.


	11. The Past Ain't Through With You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It didn't matter how frequently he wasted away the hours in this fucking bed thinking about Frank's smile, the way the skin around his eyes creased up when he laughed and how his shirt often rode up to reveal smooth skin and slender hips; Frank was untouchable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I'm terribly sorry about the long, long silence. Tonight's performance is the last, and I'm actually swapping over with the other cast and playing Audrey (Little Shop Of Horrors) instead of just doing the drums and vocals for the songs. I'm pretty nervous but I've been distracting myself by tapping out drafts of upcoming chapters on my iPhone during set breaks. I know this chapter is rather short, but it's important. I'm pretty sure I have slipped up and forgot to write certain words in the American way, and that annoys me to know end, but it's hard because my auto correct is on English (UK). Still, if you guys think you spot anything off, give me a shout. Thank you so, so much for the lovely comments and kudos, they really do make me smile! The chapter title is from the B-side song "Kill All Your Friends" by My Chemical Romance. Personally, it's one of my all time favourite songs by them!

It seemed as though everything had sped back in time to his last hospital stay. However, this time Gerard had Mikey for company and no police making him feel like the Ted Bundy reborn. He was able to spend most of the time plugged into his brother's iPod, sleeping. Still, no amount of sleep could blot out recent events. Therapy had been amped up to four times a week, and Gerard knew he going to be in this ward for a long, long time: at least until they were sure he wasn't going to leap off the nearest building. 

Frank hadn't visited for nearly twelve days, not that Gerard was counting. The shawl was good for resting his elbows on whenever he wasted away the endless nights in fits of anger or depression, and he always made sure to wrap it round Mikey when he came to visit, to keep him warm in the chilly ward. Gerard guessed that Frank was busy. He was, after all, a teenager who went to school and had friends and hobbies. While Frank got a girlfriend and went to collage, Gerard would be passed back and forth between mental health clinics and his mother's basement. It bothered him, way more than it should. He guessed that Frank had made him feel more normal, but at the end of the day, the playing video games and relaxing in a dusty jeep had all been a charade; a whimsical fantasy which, as nice as it had been, just wasn't realistic or tangible. Sometimes it didn't seem fair to Gerard, but then he'd remembered all the things he had done. It hadn't always been his fault, but he had consciously done awful stuff after, and now he had to live with it.

Gerard would always try to blame school. At first, school meant special classes and overly-sympathetic guidance councillors. Revealing his "secret" at the age of thirteen had evoked panic from all the adults, especially his parents. Seeing his mother cry when she thought he was asleep and his father read dozens of books about "traumatic experiences" and "troubled children" shook him up. The teachers treated him as though he was made if glass, and the constant worry, the stress of being different effected him. All the teachers in school knew what had happened, and he was never yelled at in class or given a detention. The other kids hated him for being a "teacher's pet" and friends were hard to come by. Relatives bought him extravagant gifts and bared too-large smiles if he so much as breathed. He would refuse to speak or thank them, because the minute his back was turned he'd hear whispers. Everyone knew that Gerard Way was a victim, someone to be pitied, and it seemed as if they we expected him to act like it.

Soon, Gerard was just angry. He was sick of his mom and dad's sympathy, and he would refuse to go to his therapy. Only Mikey talked to him like he was a real person, and he was too young to confide in. Messing around at school only earned more long and empathetic talks with the principle, so a week after his fourteenth birthday when three seniors made a proposal, he took it without really thinking.

Sucking older boys off for money behind the school gym was the perfect _fuck you_  he craved, and it left him a hundred dollars richer. The service was never implicitly expressed, and Gerard was able to save money. He would use it to run away to California and go to art school there, buying plane tickets and renting an apartment with his "wages." The job itself was embarrassing and awkward, and he'd remember awful things while doing it, but this was all momentary, soon he'd be free from everything.

This went on for a while and escalated, so by the time he was fifteen years old and getting fucked by Josh Price in the grimy backseat of a ford, it didn't feel that much of a jump. Only the sweaty cash at the end and the mumbled command to "tell no one" made him feel dirty, but he was able to console himself with what the future could hold, and the plain fact that this money was no more "dirty" than those special presents aunties and uncles had bought him years ago. He carried on doing it, eventually branching out to hanging around the local park and picking up Johns. Cars and adolescent bedrooms were replaced with seedy motels and, occasionally, drugs.

He was a whore. A hooker, a prostitute, whatever you wanted to call it. No matter how many times therapists reminded him of the childhood incident or explained the effects of trauma and depression after abuse, it didn't change the fact that he'd willingly had sex with guys twice (or even _three times_ ) his age. Just because there had been a change of mind didn't mean that it was rape. Gerard couldn't see himself as a victim; victims didn't sell their bodies and get into cars with creepy guys. 

It would be endless months before he'd be trusted and left alone; and a good year before he could carry out the plan again, this time successfully. Until then, he would have to put on a mask and do some convincing. Gerard's only way of making the waiting process bearable was to try and feel normal, and he could do that by being with Frank, talking to Frank. He had had a good few weeks of being a normal, and he wanted it back. 

 

The Misfits were blasting away bad thoughts and reminding him of his stay with the Ieros when Mikey came in. Donna had left to go grocery shopping two hours ago, and Gerard had expected the beep of the door scanner to be his mother. Mikey raised a blond eyebrow as he took a seat.

"I can leave, if you want."

Anyone else would think that the younger Way was genuinely offended, but over the years the brothers had developed their own communication. This statement was the typical, sarcastic humour Mikey often indulged in. Sometimes Gerard forgot he was only twelve. The way his brother was able to battle shitty lungs and constant hospitalization as if it was simply a small inconvenience was a talent most people never developed. Unlike Gerard: he was weak, unable to undergo examinations and blood tests without shaking or breaking down completely. The sooner that Mikey was freed from his pathetic "older" brother the better. 

"Mom said she'd bring me _NME_ " Gerard explained. He shifted in his bed, trying to ignore the fact that a huge drip was inserted right into his stomach.

"She's also bringing a load of food, because I always tell her how bad it is in these places."

Mikey shuffled his feet, and Gerard felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for his brother. He really didn't deserve him. 

"You're really kind of thin, y'know. You're gonna get sick, and the doctors are talking to mom about feeding you through a tube."

"Says the human twig," Gerard retorted. He'd spent most of his life chubby, and jibes about his weight, or lack of it, would always sound alien.

"I don't think there's anything wrong with you liking Frank," Mikey said suddenly. His voice jerked Gerard out of his stupor, and for a moment he was totally floored.

"I-I don't like Frank," he spluttered. "Not like that."

He was hyper-aware of the blush creeping up his cheeks, and judging by Mikey's smirk, he could tell that his younger brother had noticed it as well.

"It isn't a big deal," Mikey explained patiently. "Frank asked if you could stay with him again once you're discharged, and he gets all nervous and red when he talks to you, like-"

"That's 'cause I'm a fucking _freak_!" Gerard yelled in exasperation. He thought he heard the nurse in the next room pause, but he didn't care.

"I'm gonna spend the rest of my goddamn life in therapy, and if I do get out of this nut house it'll be replaced with some dead end job in a  _pizza parlour_! I'm sorry Mikes, but it doesn't matter if I like Frank or not: he's out of my league."

There was a long silence. The nurse poked her head around the door frame cautiously and then withdrew it. Mikey's expression was unreadable. What could Gerard glimpse on his brother's face? Frustration? Pity? It didn't matter how frequently he wasted away the hours in this fucking bed thinking about Frank's smile, the way the skin around his eyes creased up when he laughed and how his shirt often rode up to reveal smooth skin and slender hips; Frank was untouchable. 

Gerard was thinking about it long after Mikey had left. He wished he'd never gotten into that filthy car five months ago. He wished he'd been faster and smarter and had managed to escape. He wished he'd never stayed with Frank and Linda. He wished he'd never been sent off to stay with Uncle Will all those years ago.

When it came down to it, Gerard just wished he'd never been born.


	12. The Kids Don't Stand A Chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was aware of the wind whisking their hair up and the way Gerard's breath came out in little pants. He almost expected the oxygen they exhaled to form patterns or shapes, or even smoke rings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is my favourite chaptre so far. I've officially left my school now, so updates should come quickly. The chaptre title is a song from the band Vampire Weekend.

As time went by, Frank found it increasingly difficult to visit Gerard. It became apparent that he wouldn't be discharged for a while, and the hospital limited visitors to relatives only (not including social services). Frank returned to the hospital three days after his first visit while his mother talked with her boss and Gerard's mom about the "future". He had hoped to have a conversation with Gerard and maybe even invite him over once he got out, but upon arriving, he found the younger boy fast asleep.

Frank had waited nearly an hour, but Gerard still hadn't stirred and his mom was telling him that it was time to leave. He'd ended up spending fifty minutes watching a boy he barely knew sleep. Frank knew it was creepy, but there was something mesmerizing about the way Gerard slept: the way he curled himself up and brought both hands up to his face as if he was trying to shield himself from some unknown threat. He was a really quiet sleeper, lying very still and occasionally snuffling or breathing heavily.

His mom would update him on Gerard's progress, but it wasn't the same. He tried to go back to worrying about passing his chemistry final and whether the nuns would notice if he gelled his hair up, but it was harder than he would originally have thought.

The guys asked for Gerard whenever they played a video game, and Ryan Ross had started hanging out with them. He'd gotten in on a scholarship, and everyone thought he was weird because he was a Mormon. Of course Ray, being Ray, invited him to sit with them at lunch and gradually he appeared in their group not only during school hours, but on the weekends too. Frank liked Ryan, he liked Pete and Ray and Bob and pizza and drinking too much beer after a show, but after the buzz of alcohol wore off and he was alone again in his room, Frank would wonder how Gerard was doing; if he was still as miserable as he had been on that chilly September night.

Gradually, his mom spent less time at the hospital and more time back at home. She'd set up an online dating profile and took pottery classes. Frank wanted his mom to be happy (he remembered how tired and stressed she had been when Gerard had stayed with them) but there was a sense of injustice in the abrupt return to normality. His mom had closed the case and they had gone back to their nice, conventional life. Gerard still existed. Maybe he'd forgotten all about Frank, but what if he hadn't? What if Gerard was hurt at the sudden lack of communication? What if he missed Frank? He let a month go by before finding out.

 

The receptionist gave Frank a weird look when he asked for Gerard at the desk. He felt foolish when he realized that he didn't even know the guy's last name. Defeated, he was about to head back home when he heard someone call him. At first, Frank didn't recognize Dr. Shiva. She was a small Asian woman with a gentle smile: a friend of his mothers. She had also been Gerard's cognitive therapist.

When she told him that Gerard Way had been discharged, Frank felt strangely hopeless. He had no clue as to where Gerard lived, and he'd probably never see him again. Still, he smiled widely and thanked Dr. Shiva before stuffing his hands in his hoodie pocket and making his way to the bus station.

 

A week later, the doorbell rang, loud and shrill. Frank had felt sluggish ever since he'd called in on the hospital, and activities he'd previously considered fun had become just another way of going through the motions. He had cancelled on going out with the guys to see some shitty horror flick, and was debating pretending no one was home when he bell chimed again. Frank rolled his eyes and shifted off the bed. Whoever was calling was insistent; he'd do his best to get rid of them quick.

Gerard was wearing a leather jacket and shirt from _Abercrombie & Fitch_ that was so baggy it slumped past the hem of his coat and comically contrasted with the punk-ish jeans: stained and torn at the knees. He backed up when Frank threw open the door, and shuffled nervously as the older boy looked him up and down.

"Gerard?"

"Hi Frank."

Frank couldn't help but notice the way Gerard's shoulders were hunched; the way his fists were clenched. He licked his lips nervously, peering at Frank through his shaggy fringe.

"You still haven't gotten a haircut," Frank stated. He kicked himself a second later, because Gerard's hand had jumped self-consciously to his head, pushing his black bangs from his face in an almost apologetic way.

"Yeah I... Someone told me you were, like, looking for me? I, um, just thought I'd check... I'll go...sorr-"

"Hey, no!"

Frank pushed the door open properly, wishing that he was dressed better for this. The parallels between this event and the first time they had met was apt. Frank, having just tumbled out of bed in ratty attire and Gerard, quaking in a shirt that swamped his huddled form.

"You wanna come in?"

 

Gerard seemed calmer once they'd gone upstairs. He perched himself on the edge of Frank's bed, overtly staring at the numerous band posters that decorated his walls. Frank wondered if he was here to tell him that he was the biggest douche ever, and he started to apologize.

"I did visit, y'know. You were asleep and Mikey was there: he said if I poked you you'd wake up but I didn't want to do that because I hate it when people poke me awake so I just left...I know I should have tried harder to-"

"It's okay," replied Gerard quietly. He didn't seemed swayed by Frank's nervous ramblings. "I'm not much fun to visit, I was grumpy because they stuck a load of needles in me."

Frank didn't know if Gerard's lack of speech impediment was a good or bad thing. Besides the disappearance of his stutter, he didn't seem any happier or more confident. Perhaps the therapy had beaten it out of him.

"I'm sorry."

Frank made a point of looking at Gerard, straight in his wide, hazel eyes. "You're discharged now, right? D'you wanna hang sometime? There's this guy I want you to meet, he's called Ryan and he's pretty cool; talks like he's swallowed a thesaurus though."

Gerard smiled a little at that, a dimple denting his right cheek. At that moment, Frank wanted to push his shield of a fringe right off his face and kiss him. Not in a sexual way or whatever, he just wanted to be as fucking close to Gerard as possible. He wanted to merge into the boy: lips and skin. He wanted to join them both together so that all his burning questions would be answered. He wanted to know why Gerard was always so scared and sad, and he wanted to share it, devour it and banish it forever.

"Do you want to go somewhere?" Frank asked. The proposal flew, unguarded, out of his mouth and surprised both of them.

Part of Frank wanted to keep Gerard in his room, but he had an irrepressible urge to take him out of the confines of these walls. Thinking about it, Frank had only ever been alone with the black-haired boy in a hospital ward: half of him expected Gerard to melt or be swept away by the frigid wind if they left the house. Maybe Gerard wasn't even real. There was definitely something Orphic-like about him. His tiny features and apparent need to be invisible supported this theory.

"Where would we go?" Gerard's question was whispered. He had slid off Frank's bed and was shifting from foot to foot, leaning against the dresser. Frank had never been this close to him before. He was able to commemorate (for the first time) how Gerard's nose and cheeks were spattered with tiny freckles, no bigger than the head of a Kirby pin. Frank wondered if they were in other places. He wondered if when Gerard tanned in the summer, if the freckles hid and resurfaced during the warmer months.

"We could go for something to eat, mom shops tomorrow and there isn't anything here, I'm hungry."

Gerard blinked. "Sure, I can text Mikey and he'll tell mom I'll be out longer, I guess."

 

It wasn't a date. But it sure as hell had all those connotations. Gerard winced whenever a cold breeze hit them and he buried his face into the lapel of his jacket. Frank swung his hands as he took steps, like some lumbering goof. He tried to walk like he was a cool and collected individual, not a terrified sixteen year old boy who was crushing on a seemingly oblivious and innocent victim. The diner Frank frequented was a fifteen minute walk away, and although the silence wasn't uncomfortable as they made their way down the grid-like Jersey streets, their last interaction hung heavy in the air between them.

"I'm sorry about what happened," Gerard's voice was strained, as if the words had been hard to get out.

He stared at his converse-clad feet as they walked, steps in sync, down the sidewalk.

"I don't give a shit about all of that," Frank replied. "I mean, all that's important is that you're feeling better, and I'd be a pretty shitty person if I just went back to sleep that night while you walked around in the dark." He watched Gerard's expression closely. "Do you think you're getting better?" He ventured.

Gerard sighed, the air swirling around his face in a brisk fog.

"I don't know."

Frank left it at that. The last thing he wanted to do was scare Gerard off. However, he couldn't help but wonder if the lacerations he had spotted on the younger boy's arms had been replaced with even fresher cuts.

 

The Morning Star Diner was perfect for this particular outing. Not so empty that it felt desolate and depressing, but not oppressively packed either. The warm bustle seemed to provide a figurative, comforting glow as Frank and Gerard slid into the cracked, red leather booths. Gerard fiddled with the laminated menu but didn't seem to be actually reading it. He spent at least ten minutes just looking around the room, gazing at the various North Jersey memorabilia that aligned the walls, and Frank didn't want to pull him out of his revelry, since he seemed to be so happy.

"What're you gonna get?" He asked eventually, and Gerard jumped a little.

"Maybe... A soda?" He said tentatively, so much so that it came out as more of a question instead of a response.

"That's cool. What about to eat?" Gerard squirmed and looked at his hands. Frank noticed, for the first time, the black nail polish.

"I'm not hungry and I-I didn't bring enough anyway: I thought th-that I would be out long."

"You need to eat man, you must feel sick, being that thin."

Frank regretted this comment, because Gerard ducked his head, his trademark way of saying _I don't want to talk about it._

"Hey, I didn't mean-"

"I used to be fat," Stated Gerard. "kind of...chubby. I felt bad then, I feel bad now."

Frank stared at Gerard's minute form. He couldn't imagine his body any other way than it was.

"What can I get you guys?" The waitress had appeared out of nowhere, startling them both.

Frank didn't hesitate to order a large helping of Chocolate Chip Pancakes with a side order of Fries. Gerard sat, confused and unable to protest as the older boy smiled their waitress away and turned back to Gerard.

"We can share."

He'd already suspected this, but it turned out that they had a lot in common. The conversation went from movies (Frank had promised to show Gerard _Zodiac_ since they both had a fixation with Robert Downey Jr) to music.

"Fucking _Bowie_ , man!" Gerard had abandoned his shyness and was waving his hands around as he spoke, to emphasize his point. He had a habit of spreading his palms and leaving his pinky finger sticking out when he really got going. Frank thought it was adorable.

"Can you imagine what it must have been like, being around when he was big in the seventies? He literally was this...this _creature_ from outer space, and _Ziggy Stardust_ was a kind of way of bringing all the art and the music _together!_ The fucking fashion and all the sets when he performed changed everyone's perception of modern creativity forever! He was the first person with a considerable platform to happily _admit_ to being bisexual, and no one could protest because, at the end of the day, he was basically this lanky little alien dude from _Mars _.__ Did you know he was close to Andy Warhol? They collaborated and did a song named after him on Bowie's album. It was genius! In fact, everything on that fucking album was genius!" Gerard paused and blushed. "I'm boring you..."

"No way!" Frank leaned forward. "I can play _Space Oddity_ on guitar."

 

By the time it was nine the food was finished. Gerard had drank his soda and picked at the fries. Frank had been left to devour most of the pancakes, but it didn't matter: as long as Gerard had eaten something.

"It's my birthday next week," Frank stated as they slowly walked back to his house. "Me and the guys are going to see this band; they're good: from Kentucky, you should come."

Frank watched Gerard fidget and blush. He plunged further forward.

"You can stay over at mine afterwards. If you want we could...um, watch _Zodiac_ or something?"

"Um," Gerard tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear, pink from the cold. "Okay." He fumbled with his phone. "I should call my mom..."

"Sure!"

Frank wanted to actually be friends with Gerard. After all, the chances of him liking guys were slim, and he still wasn't sure if he liked Gerard like _that _,__ although the credibility of that argument was shrinking fast.

They were back on Frank's street. He could see his jeep parked on the curb and his mom's blue ford in the driveway. He could see the full moon glimmering in between the leafless, spiny trees and mixing with the dulcet yellow glow that sputtered through the living room windows. He was aware of the wind whisking their hair up and the way Gerard's breath came out in little pants. He almost expected the oxygen they exhaled to form patterns or shapes, or even smoke rings.

Frank's home was just over one hundred feet away. A few more paces and his mom would be able to see them if she pulled the curtains apart and pressed her face to the window. He knew that going back inside would lead to Gerard's mom arriving and Gerard leaving. He'd get into his mom's car and they'd disappear into the inky night. Frank would lie in his room and obsess over Gerard's expressive hands and quick laugh. He'd fall asleep to the sound of a heavily New Jersey accented voice and then he'd hear it for real next week once more. If Frank was seeing Gerard so soon, why did he feel so unsatisfied?

The grass beneath their feet crunched: the green blades were frozen solid. Frank thought that it was pretty cool, how similar the sound of frost and autumn leaves were underfoot. Gerard's eyes were slightly glassy, as if he was also thinking deeply about something silly and detailed. He halted, and leaned against a thick oak tree, clutching his side.

"Woah, dude, are you-"

Frank's next words were muffled, not by the wind or crunchy frost or a nosy neighbor walking their dog along the sidewalk.

Gerard's lips were soft and chapped around the edges. The same mouth that had tugged to the side when it spoke and quirked up when saying something funny was now gaping hungrily against Frank's, dragging a small pointed tongue against the roof of his mouth and his teeth. Gerard was a thorough kisser, and Frank was more than willing to go with it. He held Gerard firmly against the gnarled trunk of the tree and planted kisses around his freckled nose and soft cheeks, as well as exploring his mouth deeply. Gerard sighed as Frank ran his hands gently through the black unkempt hair that hung down past his ears. He had dreamed of being so close to this boy for so long and now that it was happening, he felt considerable less nervous than he had expected. Instead, he was able to hold Gerard steady and take control. He was able to kiss him softly and explore his sharp hips that had hidden underneath his shirt.

"Did you pretend to be sick so that you could kiss me?" Frank whispered against Gerard's neck. He felt something stirring in his jeans. Gerard nuzzled his face into Frank's jacket. The sounds he emitted were suspiciously close to giggles.

"I've wanted this or so long...fuck"

he was sucking at a spot just below Frank's ear and it was driving him crazy.

"Same here," Frank gasped.

He pulled himself away from the amazing friction they were creating together and just looked. Gerard's eyes, blissed-out from the kiss and reckless in the dark, were bright orbs that threatened to suck Frank right inside. Frank looked at the mousey curls of natural, dark brown hair than hung and curled around his forehead and ears. He looked at the slick lips and tiny, straight teeth which were just visible under the wide smile. Frank had no idea that Gerard was studying him in the same way. He had no clue as to how similar he looked to the other boy. Frank didn't know that his cheekbones were also smeared red, his lip ring catching little sparks of light and throwing them off in different directions. He was oblivious to the way his eye lashes were framing his dark, blown pupils perfectly.

"You're so fuckin' perfect," Frank breathed. He slipped his hands under Gerard's stupid shirt and his palms were met with warm skin stretched tight over a rib cage. "Like, everything is so...fuck, _Gerard _."__ He let his hands creep round to Gerard's back; he lt his fingers trace the contours of his spine.

"Fucking love you...even your ridiculous shirt..."

Gerard gave another small laugh. "It was a gift from my dad, so I had to wear it." He buried his head against Frank's shoulder. "Can you get your hands out from under there? I'm freezing."

The two of them rocked back and forth together in that kind of suburb darkness. It wasn't pitch black because there was a light on in the kitchen of the house opposite and the streetlight at the end of the street was pretty fucking bright. There wasn't silence either, because the Bishop's dog was barking two doors down and the wind was howling and Gerard's breathing, slow and easy, was right up in Frank's ear.

"We should go inside," Gerard whispered. His bony hands were now wrapped around Frank's shoulders, loosely tying them together.

"Y-you'll come next week?" Franks question caused Gerard's face to light up, a change from the quiet glow of contentment it had hosted before. However, this sudden internal revelation was short lived. Gerard's eyebrows furrowed and his mouth dropped down at the edges. He chewed on his lip as he traced an imaginary pattern around Frank's jaw, buying himself time.

Gerard had already done something unthinkable. He was supposed to have just checked up on Frank, thank him and Linda for letting him stay with them and _left _.__ Now he was in way too deep, he'd allowed the boy he liked to buy him dinner, and then they'd passionately kissed.

He tried to imagine Frank's reaction if he knew about all the men he had slept with and all the things he had done for the money they'd given him. He couldn't continue to see Frank and hide his terrible secret, he wasn't that mean. Still, he didn't have it in him to keep himself away. The time he had spent in hospital had been dedicated to thinking about Frank's wrists, his eyes, his cough. This alone proved Gerard was fixated with the person standing in front of him. He could ultimately either never see Frank again and keep his secret safe, or he could stay and allow himself to grow closer to the boy, but at the cost of risking everything and revealing his past.

Why things had to be so hard, and he had to be so pathetic and stupid, Gerard didn't know. He was soon going to be able carry out His Plan properly, so why not enjoy his last few weeks? Gerard pulled a smile back onto his face, as he'd noticed Frank's brow had began to furrow in concern. He leaned in and planted a chaste kiss on the other boy's lips.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world." 


	13. This World's An Ugly Place, But You're So Beautiful To Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It really didn't make sense how the world they lived in could look so beautiful on the outside, but have so many ugly things happening within it all at once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this whole chapter written out, and then it was deleted; so annoying! anyway, here it is at last.

Gerard stood in front of the bathroom mirror three days later, trying to get his hair just right.

Frank wasn't the only one who'd said that he needed a haircut. His mother had begun to sigh whenever she laid eyes on him and had twice offered to drive him into town or just take a scissors to his head herself.

Despite the fact that he genuinely liked Cage The Elephant and Frank's friends were nice, he was as nervous as hell. He was glad that Frank had decided to celebrate the week before his actual birthday. Frank told him that he'd been born on Halloween, and Gerard hadn't liked the idea of spending the witching hours out on the streets. Call him superstitious, but he never liked to go out anywhere on the thirty first of October. While all the other kids had ran around collecting candy, Gerard had locked himself in his "vampire den" (AKA: his bedroom) and drawn zombies.

The worst thing about agreeing to go out wasn't the possibility of being hacked to death by a chainsaw two weeks before Halloween, but the fact that he knew Frank would probably make a move, which was only fair considering how he'd initiated the kiss a few days ago, and then Gerard was going to have to tell him everything.

Mikey sauntered in, grabbing the mouthwash before turning to snort at his older brother like the little asshole he was. Gerard bit back the retort he had lined up when he caught sight of the almost-but-not-quite-invisible tube attached to the younger boy's nose: snaking its way down Mikey's arm to feed into the drip stuck into his wrist.

His mom must be loving the novelty of having both her sons home at the same time. Mikey's spurts of health only ever lasted a week or two at best and Gerard was just, well... _Gerard _.__

That would explain why she was so keen to have them all sit around the table for dinner and take them with her when she went shopping in the mall. Donna loved the novelty of watching her boys browse the record store, Gerard using his bus ticket to bookmark his place in a comic at Barnes & Noble, Mikey complaining that his feet hurt when she forced them to pick out new clothes in the department store. She knew all too well that the happiness of being a normal family was short lived, and that Mikey would soon have an episode and end up needing his ventilator, or Gerard would try something again and be stuck back in that God-Awful clinic.

Gerard felt horribly guilty about upsetting his family so often, especially his mother. He glanced at Mikey's drip, held in place with a large needle, and shuddered. Mikey could undergo thousands of needles and examinations without batting an eyelid, unlike Gerard: Gerard was weak. He couldn't look at any medical instrument without crying and losing his shit completely.

"Have you met Frank's friends before?"

Mikey had made Gerard jump. He took a steadying breath before answering.

"Most of them."

"Then you'll be fine," Mikey said simply, rolling his eyes and passing Gerard the straighteners. "Frank likes you; that's all that matters."

 

Gerard tried desperately to keep these thoughts in his mind as he sat on the bus to Frank's house, his black messenger bag at his feet. His iPod was blaring blink 182, and the music was helping him concentrate on other things and keep his anxiety in check.

It was just starting to get dark, and Gerard knew that by the time the concert started it would be pitch black. The sky was doing that thing where the bright colors of the day ran into the deep navy of the night, and it made Gerard want to capture it and smudge it out in oil pastel onto canvas paper later.

As the bus bumped down the busy streets and more and more people got on, Gerard felt his worries increase. His breathing went funny an his chest felt tight. Oh God, he hoped he didn't have another panic attack or cry or do something equally embarrassing. The old lady opposite was glaring at him, almost as though she knew all the horrible, disgusting things Gerard had done and let other people do to him. He felt like very single passenger was stating now. It was as if he was some particularly vile greasy, obese, caged animal on display, and he was going to pass out any second.

By some small act of divine intervention, the bus slid to a halt and Gerard stumbled out into the cold evening. He was thankful that he'd been able to escape without causing to much of a scene.

'Causing a scene'; it was just the kind of expression his dad had used when they were little kids and acted up in public. For Mikey, it had meant throwing tantrums when he was refused candy. In Gerard's case it was more akin to crying when a strange man approached him, refusing to talk to strangers and constantly getting nosebleeds.

Gerard's dad had always felt guilty for what had happened, especially as he had often shouted at him for being so timid when he was younger. There was no way he could have possibly known, but it still killed him inside. Gerard saw this when his dad recently visited him in hospital. Despite how many times Donald Way told his son that he was sorry, and that the divorce from Donna months after he found out had nothing to do with him and was by no way his fault, Gerd knew that a lot of things that had went wrong in his family were down to him.

Shakily, he rubbed the tears out of his eyes and looked around. Gerard had probably ruined his eyeliner and gotten off at least two stops early, but that was the least of his worries.

Maybe some exercise would clear his head.

 

Frank had never been so happy to hear the three-thirty bell ring in his life. He'd spent the entire duration of his six classes passing notes to Ryan and Bob and mentally planning out the evening.

As much as he tried to blame the nerves on the fact that he was seeing one of his favorite bands tonight, on what was basically his _seventeenth fucking birthday_ , Frank knew that the root cause of the butterflies in his stomach was Gerard.

Although they'd exchanged numbers, the texts between the two of them were sporadic to say the least; mostly consisting of Gerard sending him a paragraph on how Holden Caufield really _could _have been making up the whole thing from the confines of a mental asylum, but Frank usually got tongue-tied and never knew what to say back.__

He hoped that this evening would clear things up between them, and that whatever happened, Frank couldn't think of anything better than a concert, pizza, his friends, an empty house (his mother had left him alone to go to her cousins wedding in Vermont) and Gerard.

 

The five of them rushed out of school as if their lives depended on it and prepared to play some video games. It was a good two hours until Gerard was due to arrive and they'd train-hop to The Art Garage in Montclair, but Frank didn't think he'd be able to stand the wait.

The fact that he was so close to seeing the boy again made Frank's stomach flip over with anticipation, but Bob passed around beer and after two, he felt giddy and ready to face anything.

He was on top of the world when the doorbell finally rang, and Frank flew down the hall and yanked it open, engulfing a shivering Gerard in a tight hug.

"Gerard!", He said genially, ignoring his friend's yelp of surprise, "I was worried you wouldn't show, man! I was gonna-"

He broke off because he was laughing so much, and behind him he could hear Ray yelling at Pete over the Doritos.

"I was gonna go an' check the mall, cause I wasn't sure if you'd finished your shift at Abercrombie & Fitch."

Frank burst into snorts of laughter at his own joke, and Gerard stood frozen on the doorstep, bundled up in tight jeans and a black-and-grey stripy scarf. For one terrible second, Frank thought that Gerard had taken offence. From the living room he could hear the rest of the guys laughing about something Ryan had said. Then Gerard ducked his head, threw his hands in the air and laughed along with them.

"You're just jealous 'cause I have a modelling contact, and you don't," he giggled.

Frank didn't think he'd ever heard a sixteen year old boy giggle quite like Gerard just had. But then, Gerard wasn't exactly a textbook example of masculinity, with his dyed black hair that curled at the edges, the big eyes and dark lashes, the small, pale face...

He was so deeply involved in his own thoughts that for a second Frank didn't register Gerard unzipping his navy hoodie to show him the shirt he was wearing. "I didn't have a Cage The Elephant one," he explained bashfully, and Frank hastened to reassure him.

"No way!"

He bent down to get a closer look, his nose inches away from the Blink 182 motif plastered over Gerard's stomach. "Trust me man, _everyone_ will be wearing the band's shirt: you'll be original!"

Gerard snorted at that, but grinned back all the same. Frank wanted to keep this image in his mind for ever. Gerard, his hair falling over his face and curling around his ears from the cold air, laughing, happy...

"God, you guys!"

They both jumped at the sound of Pete's voice.

"Is Gerard going to stand there all night, or can he help Ryan get past this bit in _The Last Of Us?"_

Frank's friends greeted Gerard enthusiastically, which basically meant copious bear hugs and Ray ruffling his hair, the same hair he'd spent ages getting just right, but stuff like that just didn't seem to matter anymore.

He took one look at Ryan's elaborate facial design of swallows flying across a pink background and internally laughed at his fears of being the most made up. Frank and Pete were also wearing eyeliner, perhaps a little less smudged, but eyeliner all the same.

Gerard decided he liked Ryan, who seemed to be as shy as him but had a quiet assurance and apathy that only someone who painted fucking _birds_ on their face and then went out in public could possess.

After one more round of gaming, everyone was stuffing junk food into backpacks and pulling on coats and hoodies. Gerard wound his favorite scarf around his neck and pulled his hood up. After all, it was fucking cold.

 

The bus ride to the station was short. Despite Pete's antics on the train, which consisted of hanging of the support poles and sticking his whole upper body out the window, he hadn't forgotten his freak-out on the bus earlier.

Similar thoughts of panic rushed through his head, but they all disappeared when Frank came and leaned against the train door next to him, his elbow rubbing reassuringly against his side every few seconds.

Gerard was sure he heard the whole carriage of innocent commuters sigh in unanimous relief when the six of them disembarked at Montclair station. He watched the train pull away from the platform and rattle off into the night, little blue sparks leaping from the grating wheels. What if there was a break in the tracks further on, and the train was blithely chugging to its untimely death?

Gerard imagined using his superhuman speed and strength to grind the thing to a halt, stopping the machine before it plummeted over the edge. Men, woman and children would cry with relief and look at him in gratitude, but the only face he could see among his admirers was Frank's, shining like a beacon...

"Watch your step."

Frank guided Gerard down the narrow, slippery stairs and out into the road. His grip on Gerard's arm was tight, and Gerard thought that if it was anyone else he would have felt uncomfortable.

They were met with a sudden rush of concert-goers, all heading towards the same shabby warehouse on the corner of the block. Gerard liked the feeling of unity between them all. He liked the way that he was part of something bigger, and the thought of seeing Cage The Elephant play in less that half an hour's time kept him sane in the jostling crowd.

The doors opened a minute or so later and there was a rush to get in. Ray held Ryan in front of him like a human shield, and the smaller boy wielded pointy elbows to clear a space for all six of them at the barricade.

The mass of people then suddenly surged forward again, screaming in excitement when the lights went down. Bob gripped Gerard's shoulder excitedly. Frank was pressed up against his side and, behind him, a chick with blue hair and angel bites lovingly fondled his hair.

The baying crowd were met with an empty stage for a good few minutes before the band bounded into view with the kind of swagger only someone who didn't even tour with support could attain.

Gerard felt a surge of excitement and energy and was filled with that long-forgotten concert adrenaline. He'd gone to nearly all his past gigs alone, occasionally dragging along Mikey, but this was the first time he had someone to share his passion with. He caught a glimpse of Frank's overjoyed, manic face before the opening chords to _In One Ear_  sounded and the entire room laughed into a blur.

The whole body of individual people transformed into one single entity, an entity that Gerard was part of. Sweat coated his back, his neck, his everywhere and he could make out Frank jumping up and down wildly a few feet away from him, craning his neck and trying to be as close to the stage as possible. As he was thrown about wildly to the drumbeat of _Saber-tooth Tiger,_ Gerard marveled at the lack of pain he felt. No stabbing throbs to his head or stomach; no awful cramps running down his legs. Framed by the blinding stage lights, the band looked like beings from another world. The ethereal aspect of their movements, their faces creased in concentration, Gerard thought that they looked like Gods: Gods who purged his body all all the physical and emotional pain.The very air hung with these emotions, oxygen had been replaced by beer, sweat and adulterated happiness.

"You're fuckin' _syked out_ , man."

Matt Shultz's voice boomed loudly over the microphone, making Gerard jump and look up, only to meet the singer's amused gaze.

"Yeah you, the Blink kid! That's right, I'm talkin' to you! Give it up for the Blink kid everybody!"

Embarrassed, Gerard could only bury his face in Frank's shoulder as the crowd's laughing faces flicked towards him. Luckily Matt diverted everyone's attention with a gag about New Jersey weather and Brad's sudden boom of chords across the loud speaker announced the next song, his finger's flying over the frets and setting off the next furious burst of energy.

 

An hour later, the band had left stage, came back on for the encore and left again, leaving behind them a flurry of movement. Gerard personally felt like he was in shock. It was as if he'd somehow died thirty minutes ago, and his ghost was now floating around dingy room, as if his very soul was infused with beer and the juddering ring the bass guitar had left behind.

He was guided out by Ray, and Bob had grabbed him from behind and was throwing him about just like Ray had done with Ryan earlier. Gerard didn't know if he liked the attention, but he was so numb with the shock of having _Matthew Shultz_ talk to him that he didn't even notice when they all found themselves in a nearby 7-11, surrounded by a mass of people who, like them, needed something to eat and drink after nearly two hours of thrashing about in a sweaty pit.

Gerard was surprised when he found himself eating a bacon sandwich without a second thought. It had been a long time since he'd felt so carefree, but after such a liberating revelation of a concert the knot of worry in his stomach that coiled whenever he ate something had loosened considerably: not to mention the fact Ryan was calmly inhaling a whole bar of Hershey's chocolate next to him.

Frank was standing by the curb, beer in one hand and a pack of red vines in the other. Pete kept stealing one every few seconds, but he didn't seem to notice or care. He looked blissed-out, practically swaying back and forth in revelry, so much so that the street lamps cast an eerie glow over his whole body, and to Gerard he looked like a totally cool, winged demon that was about to take off into the night.

Frank's fist was clenched around a guitar pick as they sauntered down the road, and Bob made an addition to his collection a few seconds later when he handed the birthday boy a tattered set list, claiming that he "didn't have to buy him some dumb guitar strap now".

All six of them were bathed in post-concert euphoria on the train home, so when Frank put an arm around him and pulled him in close, Gerard shouldn't have panicked. But he did. He breathed deeply and looked around. Ryan had his head in Pete's lap, and the black haired boy was gently playing with the other's hair whilst Bob and Ray were using the support poles to be strippers for the benefit of the empty carriage.

It was then that Gerard realized that these people clearly didn't care, and he allowed himself to relax and rock to and fro in sync with the rhythm of the train. Frank hummed in approval and pulled him in closer. They stayed that way for the remaining ten minutes of the journey and, as dumb and completely stupid as it might sound, those ten minutes were the best of the entire night.

 

"Pizza then home" Frank announced as he pulled open his front door.

The rattle of keys chimed in with their approval and they all headed straight to Frank's room. One _Veggie Supreme_ , two _Meat Feasts_ and a _Classic Pepperoni_ layer, they were all sprawled across the carpet. The pizza guy had seemed cheesed off, probably due to the lack of a tip or the fact that it was nearly two in the morning, but (as Ray sensibly argued) what was the point of opening a twenty-four hour pizza delivery service if you were just gonna get prissy about it?

 

 

Bob had left soon after that, followed by Pete (who's parents had had no idea about the concert and were gonna be _"so pissed"_ ). Ryan mumbled something about his father not giving a fuck but followed suit.

That left Gerard, Frank and Ray to drown their insides in Dr Pepper and watch four consecutive episodes of _Sweet Sixteen_. They talked about how Ryan wouldn't shut up about this kid who went to his church, which meant that he was probably crushing on him. Gerard listened but didn't feel like he knew enough to join in. After all, until just now he'd thought that Ryan and _Pete_ were an item. Soon, Ray called it a night (or rather, an early morning) and went home too.

 

The sound of the front door slamming was still making an echo when Frank abruptly switched the tube off, cutting out Amber's high-pitched wail (I said I wanted the _pink_ car mom, God, I _hate_ you!) and making Gerard jump.

Frank grinned over his shoulder. "Chill man, I have a surprise for you."

"It's _your_ birthday!" Gerard glanced at his bag on Frank's bed. "Besides, I haven't given you your surprise yet."

Frank just waved his hand dismissively.

"Just wait a minute, you have to see this."

He pulled on his jacket and made for his bedroom door.

"Follow me! Oh, and bring your bag."

 

Gerard felt his nerves increase as Frank opened his door, left the house and made towards his car. The buzz of the alcohol he'd consumed at the show was gone as suddenly as it had appeared. He felt cold, clammy and completely terrified. All of a sudden, he was fourteen years old again and getting into some senior's truck, his school bag slung over his shoulder so it didn't get in the way of the messy hand job he was about to give. His head spun as he thought about how it was Frank's birthday, he had paid for Gerard's concert ticket. He'd also led the older boy on, kissing him like that the other day. Frank had every right to want something in return, and Gerard had spent enough time staring at the guy to know that he was all lean muscle. If Frank wanted payment Gerard simply wouldn't have the right (or even the  _strength_ ) to refuse.

He couldn't stand anymore, and dimly he heard Frank's worried voice and felt his hands supporting him, wrapping around his middle.

"I c-can't, I'm s-sor-sorry"

it couldn't be happening again, it _couldn't be. _He just couldn't take it.__

"What are you talking about?"

Frank had pulled him into the passenger seat of the car and was rubbing his arm soothingly. It was pitch black, the time of night where you're sure the sun will never appear again. The dashboard clock glowed 3:46 AM, but the light it emitted wasn't enough for Gerard to really be able to see anything. He tried again.

"I'm m-not ready, Frank, p-please d-don't."

He imaged Frank was getting angry with him. What would he do? Throw him out? Beat him up? Do it anyway? One thing Gerard had learnt over the years was that consent was a luxury.

He waited in terrified silence, the only sound being his gasping for air and someone's cat on the next street. Then, the courtesy light flicked on, and the whole vehicle was flooded with light.

The backseat of Frank's jeep had been taken out completely, meaning that the floor space joined with the room the trunk provided, creating a huge amount of room, enough room for the two of them to stretch out comfortably. Frank had covered every surface in shawls and blankets: the hung over the side lights of his car and bathed the whole space in pinks, purples, blues and reds. The floor was swamped in pillows and rugs, and Gerard spotted some leftover pizza and a few cans of coke in a corner. In short, when someone says "hippie camper van", this was exactly what came to mind.

Gerard gazed in awe for a long moment, before turning to Frank. The boy was pale, and stared at Gerard with an unreadable expression on his face. "I thought we could drive to this spot I know and spend the night, or what's left of it, sleeping there." He said quietly.

"But we can bring the pizza back to the house and-"

"N-no!"

Gerard felt unspeakably ashamed of thinking that Frank would hurt him like that. His breathing had mellowed, and he hastily sniffed and wipe away his tears.

"I n-need to give you your present."

It took him an age to find it which was strange, considering that the gift was fairly large and his bag was fairly small. He pulled it out at last.

"I saw you had it on CD, so..."

"No fuckin' _way!_ " Frank's face had gone from chalk white to glowing. He gazed in admiration at the LP before wrapping Gerard in a tight hug.

Gerard felt tears prick at the back of his eyelids, and he mentally chastised himself for being so stupid. _Going Away to Collage_ had been playing in Frank's car the first time he had taken him out to play video games at Pete's, so it only seemed natural to give him __Enema Of The State _on vinyl.___ Gerard had come to think of some of the songs on that album as his and Frank's songs. The whining guitar and thudding bass reminded him of staying with Frank, driving with Frank and being with Frank.

"Seriously, Gerry... this is the best thing ever."

Gerard flushed at the nickname. He could tell by the way Frank gripped the album to his chest that he was being sincere.

"It isn't as good as this". He motioned to the van space and smiled.

 

"let's do it."

The "spot" Frank had talked about turned out to be only twenty minutes away. The grassy edge of a cliff was shelter with talk slender trees, and the whole of North New Jersey was spread out underneath them like a glorious map. They kicked open the back doors and sat, wrapped in blankets with their feet dangling over the edge. It was cold, but the boys huddled together and were able to ignore the adverse temperature in favor of each other's warmth.

It was Gerard who broke the comfortable, sleepy silence at around 5:00 AM, just as the sun was rising.

"I was five when Mikey had to go into hospital for the first time. He'd been born with underdeveloped lungs, and we always knew that he was gonna have some serious problems... It got worse and turned into pneumonia, so my mom and dad wanted to be with him the whole time. They sent me to stay with my Uncle Will in Manhattan."

Frank stayed silent as Gerard paused for breath. He wondered why the boy was telling him all this.

"I must have been excited. It was my first time on a boat, and y'know, I had to take the ferry across the Hudson."

Frank nodded, although at this point his chin was resting on the top of Gerard's head, so he wants sure if this motion was acknowledged, unless Gerard felt the vibration.

"It was fun at first. Uncle Will was my dad's brother, older I think. The minute I arrived he took me around the city and showed me the sights. He bought me ice cream and a comic book. I think I still have it somewhere; anyway..."

"That night. When I was dressed for bed, he took me into the bathroom."

Frank suddenly felt cold all over, despite the three blankets.

"He got his...his _thing_ out, and made me touch it. The next night, he got mine out too, and the night after... You get the idea..."

"No," Frank whispered.

"The worst part is that I thought it was fucking _normal._ He said that it was "our secret". It took me six years to figure out what had happened, and that was only because we had sex ed in fifth grade."

"A week after I turned thirteen Uncle Will died. Everyone was going up-state for the funeral. Mom asked me why I didn't want to go, so I told her. Just like that. I went to the hospital and got a rape kit done, the funeral was cancelled and no one ever said Uncle Will's name ever again."

Gerard's voice had stayed a steady monotone all through his story, but it shook as he went on to describe how he lost all his excess weight in six months and started having sex with the older guys in his school for money, eventually letting seedy men pick him up from bars and parks and take him back to a motel room on the outskirts of town.

Gerard told Frank about the night everything had gotten out of control. He'd been drugged at a nightspot and taken against his will to some guy's apartment. When the man left the room for a second, he came to his senses and crawled into the bathroom; locking the door behind him. This made the guy even crazier with anger when he realized what Gerard had done.

Gerard described, in horrifying detail, how he had slowly busted the door down, beaten him until he was unable to move, and raped him. The neighbors heard screaming and alerted the cops, but by the time they arrived Gerard was unconscious. He was face down in a pool of his own vomit: his nose dripping with cocaine.

Because prostitution was a serious offence and cocaine a Class A drug, both of them had been arrested. It took a while, but Gerard was later acquitted, providing he went into foster care, while his attacker went to prison.

"That's how I ended up staying with you," He whispered brokenly.

Frank was in shock. This was too much information to process in such a short time. He knew that Gerard had been arrested, but he'd always assumed that Gerard had been mugged or something.

He thought that he had hurt his attacker when trying to fight back, and proving self defense had been tricky. But never had he imagined this.

Gerard had buried his face in Frank's shirt, soaking it with silent tears.

Sobs ripped through him, jerking his body with such force that Frank knew that this emotion must have been pent-up for a long, long time.

All Frank could do was hold Gerard and cry with him as he sobbed like a brutalized child.

Frank imagined all the pain, from when he was very young and from a more recent time, leaking out and escaping. They stayed like that for a while, until Gerard's panicked crying evened out into deep measured breaths and and he feel asleep, face buried into Frank's chest. Frank was left to weep for his friend and watch the sun rise alone. He saw the sky stain with beautiful whites, pinks and yellows.

He saw the town he'd lived in all his life illuminated by the dawn light. He saw tiny cars chugging along the silver roads and pint-size trees calmly sway in the breeze. Frank knew that there were people in those cars and houses he saw, people who had no idea of the pain the sixteen year old boy beside him had gone through. If you really thought hard about it, Frank couldn't help thinking that it wasn't fair. While Gerard was being abused, he could have been having "the best day ever". It really didn't make sense how the world they lived in could look so beautiful on the outside, but have so many ugly things happening within it all at once.


	14. Shake Me Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wasn't it bad enough that he'd gone through the ordeal once? Why did he have to keep re-living it again and again, every night?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mention/use Cage The Elephant (chapter title) a lot, but that's because they're a really good, grungy band! I also think Frank mentioned them a year back and I've been DM-ing them on twitter, trying to get them to come to London.

They stayed in the back of Frank's jeep for a while; long enough for the sun to properly rise, the unexpected rays warming their frozen, converse-clad toes. 

In the end, Frank cautiously slid away from Gerard and strapped himself into the drivers seat. He'd been hugging the younger boy to his chest for all he'd been worth, and Gerard stirred but didn't wake up. Frank threw a few blankets over him tucked and pillow under his head. He felt bad, because he really should wake Gerard up and make him sit shot gun with the security of a seatbelt, but he figured that he could drive extra careful just this once.

The roads were deserted as he cruised home and quietly played a mix tape without hearing it. He was still in shock. There had been a great surge of sadness initially, but now he struggled to understand.

Things like that didn't happen your friends, they happened to characters in movies and books, to people on the front of self-help leaflets and victims in dark documentaries. 

He remembered the fearful look in Gerard's eye, his stutter, the way he jumped when someone or something made a loud noise and the crying at night.

Frank was relieved when he pulled the car up in front of his home; he was dizzy and felt like his whole brain had left his body and was floating somewhere up in outer space.

He had to wake Gerard up, then, because he couldn't stay in the back of the jeep with the heating cut out. Frank pulled open the back doors and rubbed the boy's shoulder soothingly until he sighed himself awake and blinked up at him.

"C'mon Gerry, let's get you inside."

Gerard looked confused, and, not really awake, he gripped Frank's shoulder tightly as they stumbled through the door, up the stairs and into Frank's room. He reminded Frank of a much younger kid who had fallen asleep in the family car after a late night outing.

His room was still a cluttered mess from the night before, but that wasn't exactly a big priority for Frank. He nudged the door open and guided the tired, bleary younger boy to the bed

Gerard collapsed on the soft surface and was asleep in seconds. Frank let him; he had to tidy the house before his mom got home at noon.

They both hadn't drank too much last night, but when Gerard had told him his secret they were almost definitely sober. Frank knew that Gerard wouldn't forget: once he'd woken up properly they'd have to deal with what happened. 

It wasn't like it was something they could just ignore.

 

The first thing that Gerard felt when he woke up was that familiar dull ache all over. He'd thought that he was invincible, but the hours of activity and jumping around at the gig last night had taken their toll: his entire body hurt.

As disorientated as he was, if it wasn't for the yellowing misfits poster above his head Gerard would assume he was back in hospital: he felt so dizzy and sick.

The good thing was that his head didn't hurt him; Gerard only got the awful migraines when he had a night terror or was sleep deprived, but he was prone to feeling the effects of alcohol very quickly and easily. This could only mean that nothing really traumatizing had happened and/or he hadn't drank in excess.

Counting that as a success, he sat up and looked around for Frank. Just as the blood drained from his head, he remembered everything all at once. He remembered the jeep, the dark night and Frank's arm, safe and heavy as he told him his secret.

Gerard flopped back onto the bed, limp with shock. How could he go down and face Frank, now that he knew? He was honestly surprised Frank had even let him come back into his house and sleep in his bed, knowing all the fucked-up shit he'd done.

Gerard wondered of he could make a break for it, to save embarrassing the both of them. He'd sniveled all over Frank last night, like some goddamn _baby_. He simply wouldn't be able to look him in the eye.

Cautiously, he changed into the clothes he'd worn the night before, ignoring screams of protest from his muscles. He yanked on his chucks and peeked around the edge of Frank's bedroom door.

There was the landing, there was the stairs and there was the door. The keys would be in the bowl on the table in the hallway. Frank could be anywhere in the house, or not there at all, but he figured that if he made things quick he'd get out without the other boy noticing.

The smell of bleach hit him as he tiptoed down the stairs, wincing at every creak. He was terrified; Frank was going to notice him and try to talk about last night, and that couldn't happen. Gerard just wished that he could crawl into a deep, dark hole and never come out again.

 

Frank had been busy trying to scrub a beer stain of the kitchen floor when he heard the first footstep. Unless there was a serial killer on the loose, Gerard was awake.

He stopped what he was doing and walked out into the hallway. Gerard stood there, frozen like a kid caught doing something he shouldn't. He looked terrible: dark circles framed his eyes and he was actually _limping_. 

"Morning," Frank said, hating how falsely cheery his voice sounded. "I'll drive you back, if you want. Why don't you have some breakfast first?"

Looking like he really didn't have a choice, Gerard nodded and followed Frank into the kitchen. He kept his head down and hugged himself tightly as Frank made coffee and toast and placed it in front of him.

Frank could tell that Gerard didn't want to talk. He wanted, so badly, to tell the younger boy that he admired him for speaking about what had happened to him, but he knew Gerard wouldn't really appreciate it. 

Frank switched the little TV to _Kerrang!_ music videos while Gerard sipped the coffee and ignored the toast. The silence between them was almost comfortable; only the fact that Gerard was shaking as he sat at the table kept Frank pinned down to the stark reality.

In a way, they were back to square one. Frank couldn't believe that the person he'd laughed with and teased last night was the same boy sitting in front of him. 

 

He rarely used his GPS, but he was grateful for it on this occasion. Gerard was shivering in his hoodie so he amped up the hearing to the "super hot Sahara Dessert" level and typed Gerard's address in.

It was a good, forty-minute drive. Gerard occasionally shifted in his seat or yawned, but mostly he just stared straight ahead, his bag clasped to his chest. Frank wished he could say something to make him feel better. He almost wished Gerard hadn't told him, simply because the guy clearly hadn't been ready to reveal such personal information. He definitely seemed to regret it. Had Frank pressured him into talking?

The scenery gradually changed, from central Newark to Belleville. Frank noticed that Gerard's area had a lot of derelict buildings; the stores looked tired and the houses disheveled. 

Frank wasn't super rich, but he and his mom were comfortable. She had enough money from divorce pay-outs and as a high-paid member of the government to send her son to a private school and keep them in a nice area. (Which was saying a lot, considering they lived in Newark).

Gerard's house looked like all the others on the street: small and maybe a little shabby. The front garden was neater than the others though, and the car parked in the driveway was sparkling clean.

Gerard slid out and stood on the curb. Frank wanted to get out too, but he imagined that escorting Gerard to his own front door wouldn't be a good move when he clearly wanted space.

"See you around?" 

Frank tried to hide the hope in his voice as he kept his face neutral.

Gerard glanced up, squinting in the weak winter sunshine. Primarily, He looked confused, but Frank could see the underlying vulnerability and hurt. He watched as Gerard opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again. He stuttered for a few seconds while his face turned red before finally speaking.

"Thanks for the ride."

 

Gerard was never going to leave the house again. Hell, he was never going to _speak_ again. He had had an actual  _friend_ , someone who genuinely liked him and all the things he was passionate about, and he'd fucked it up.

If that wasn't enough, Gerard felt like death warmed over. His leg had gone numb during the ride and he felt like he was going to throw up if he didn't lie down right now.

He made it to his basement-bedroom without blowing chunks all over the dusty carpet, which was always a good thing. Gerard flopped onto his bed and allowed sleep to overtake his conscious thoughts, pulling him under. He was past the point of caring about what he saw when he closed his eyes, as long as he wasn't in this reality.

 

_He was exposed and scared. The room was dim, and this was worse than it being pitch-black dark. If he couldn't see anything, he wouldn't try to. Now, with the tiny, dim light in the corner of the unknown room, he was straining his eyes to make out the unfamiliar setting. All he could make out was the shape of what might have been a bed and a T.V._

_The terror was palpable. Gerard felt like he was young: very very young. He shivered, completely naked on the filthy floor. His lungs felt shriveled and his mouth didn't seem to be working: he couldn't speak. His breath came out of his nose in terrified snorts._

_Then, someone (or something, for surely no person would hurt him in such a primal way) was bringing their fists down on every inch of his body, again and again and again. Gerard couldn't make a sound as pain rolled around him in huge, great waves. His body contorted with fear as he was assaulted. By the time bile rose in his throat for the second time, he wanted to be dead. If this demon had any sliver of mercy he'd be put out of his misery and not made to live with the fear and humiliation._

_One hand was fisted in his hair, and was pushing his head down with such force, he was certain that his face was going to break a whole in the stained carpet._

_Kill me, please God, kill me..._

 

"Gerard! Honey, _wake up!_ "

The hands were on his face now, hands hurting him, hitting him... Holding him?

His mother had her arms wrapped tight around him, her expression panicked and her voice hysterical. Gerard thought he couldn't breathe; his chest was heaving up and down at a superhuman speed and he was drenched in sweat.

"Shh sweetie, it was... it was just a dream."

Gerard's throat felt rough and raw: had he been yelling? The realization that it hasn't happened again, that he was safe in his room, should have brought relief. Instead, the steady flow of tears increased and his mom cried with him.

"I don't feel well, mom." He sobbed.

"It's okay, baby, I'm here."

"I'm sick...real sick... I'm dying."

He vomited for real then, throwing up all over his the side of the bed and narrowly missing himself. The shock and terror sent his body into convolutions. What if his attacker was in the house? he could be outside the door...

It took ten minutes for Gerard to calm down enough for his mom to go grab him some water and clean up the mess he'd made. He couldn't stop shaking. It wasn't fair. Wasn't it bad enough that he'd gone through the ordeal once? Why did he have to keep re-living it again and again, _every night_?

He felt weak and useless, and he let his mom bring him an Advil and stroke his hair while he lay shivering in bed. She brought her phone and note pad down with her, and she used it to jot down appointment times as she spoke to Dr. Cosa.

Gerard didn't know how she managed to keep it together. Looking after him, attending his youth offending meetings and hospital reviews, as well as constantly running back and forth to make sure Mikey had clean clothes to wear after his operation _and_ running a hairdressing salon. 

It was nearly eight in the evening. He'd gotten home in the morning and he remembered going straight to bed, which meant that he'd been asleep for a long time. 

It was funny. You could sleep for ten hours and still have a dream that felt like it had only lasted about twenty seconds.

Gerard knew he wasn't mentally well. Having these dreams made him physically sick; basically flipping out as if he'd been possessed, like in _The Exorcist_. He lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. Upstairs, he could hear his mom clattering around, making him chicken soup. He didn't deserve a mother like her, a mother who booked him into countless clinics and loved him, even if he was a worthless whore.

He wasn't good enough for his mom or his dad or his brother. Or Frank. He definitely didn't have the right to be friends (let alone anything else) with Frank.


	15. We're Gonna Rattle This Ghost Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was what being a teenager was supposed to be like. Lying in bed with your boyfriend or girlfriend, kissing and laughing, because they shouldn't just be a lover, they should be a best friend too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this fic is nearing the end now, maybe two or three more chapters? anyway, the chapter title is a lyric from the song "Anna Sun" by Walk The Moon. My friend saw them support for Fun., and she passed me on their CD which is beautiful. 
> 
> Also, importantly, I was wondering if there were any talented artists on this forum? I'm shit at drawing myself, but it really would mean the world to me if someone did some fan art on this fic since it's my first ever; I would publicly yell about how great you are from the top of a building, or something like that. Anyway, comment or send me a message or whatever if you're interested in doing it.
> 
> I've made a mix on 8 tracks for this fic, and I'll post that and the poem that inspired the title in the last chapter summary.
> 
> Kudos and comments help me know what I'm doing wrong and right, and I want this to be as good as it possibly can be. Thanks!!

When it came to motivation, Gerard had always been severely lacking.

There had been a time when he'd been a good student, but he'd never concentrated. What was the point of being able to do the Quadratic Formula? Why did he _need_ to know what Osmosis was?

At least, that was what Gerard had always told himself. In reality, he'd been too scared of being wrong to try. He was a defeatist, a pessimist. It was hard enough concentrating in class without some asshole behind you poking you in the back of the head and tripping you up in the hallways.

The same kind of situation applied here. Gerard didn't even have the energy to finish everything off for good. If he was honest with himself, he was scared. What if some kind of afterlife existed, and he went to hell? What if he was doomed to being consciously aware of his faults and failures for eternity?

So he lay in bed and tried not think as doctors prescribed him new pills and gave him new names. _Post Traumatic Stress Disorder_ , _Nervous Exhaustion_ , they were just fancy words. Underneath all the medical terms, he was a wimp.

He just kept getting sicker, and being dragged up to hospital to spend hours talking to Dr. Cosa about his past double life as a hooker wasn't helping.

He recognized that panicking and crying until you were sick wasn't normal, but his stomach still cramped up from time to time, so Gerard tried to convince himself that the problem was physical, that he wasn't so scared of the man who attacked him finding him and doing it again that he puked.

Frank had sent him various texts; at first they were along the lines of _hope you're feeling better_ , _You left your sketch pad at mine_ or _Ryan says hi_ but they soon progressed to messages with a more worried undertone, asking if he was okay.

Gerard ignored all of them. The sooner Frank forgot about him and got other, more mentally stable friends, the better. He'd made a fool of himself that night, and he had no desire to repeat it.

It was on one of those nights when his mom smoothed down his terrible air and started to cry. She'd brought down dinner and his pills. He'd picked at the lasagna and swallowed the meds, and when his mom came back down to bring the tray up, tears began to trickle down her powdered cheeks and she pulled him into a hug.

Gerard's first impulse was to resist, but then he just went with it. His mom was disappointed: and rightly so. He'd been a high achieving kid who was "going places." Then he'd started high school and everything just crumbled.

"My poor baby," his mom whispered.

She'd been like this when he had first told everyone. At first, his dad hadn't believed him, didn't want to believe him. Then the tests came back from the hospital and there'd been nothing more to say.

"I'm sorry, Ma."

It was all he could think to say, but this just made her cry harder. Gerard was used to these bursts of emotion from his family, they all had them. About once every six months someone would break down and say it was their fault, if their lungs were better, if they'd sent their son to stay with a sister in Florida, if their brother wasn't a pedophile...

It wasn't any one's fault, unless you counted Uncle Will himself. Gerard had given it a lot of thought over the years, but he still didn't think why anyone would do that to a little kid, let alone their nephew.

"You're going to be okay, Gerard." His mother had her lips pursed and her face was set with determination.

"Depression... It's an illness. You'll get better and do that course; you can finish school online. You'll get your diploma and then... You can do whatever you want."

It was a good technique. Map out the next few years in a clear, easy way. It should have made Gerard felt calmer; happier. After he'd gotten his high school diploma he'd be free to apply for a scholarship to any art school. But was he even good enough? His sketches were probably shit in any professional view. He imagined his parents, smiling and praising his talent, and then frowning and using words like "average" and "naive" the minute his back was turned.

He would be lucky to get a job for minimal wage, with the lack of skills he had.

It was a month until Christmas, and Frank was tired of waiting. He'd spent weeks thinking of Gerard, and if he didn't go and see him then he'd probably go crazy with worry.

He'd wondered if the younger boy had tried to kill himself again, if he'd succeeded. That thought came in the dead of night, and whispered to him in a poisonous voice about how Gerard had probably felt sad and alone, so lonely that he simply couldn't do it anymore.

Sure, he'd sent a few texts, but he didn't want to spam the poor guy. But what if Gerard was too sick to check his phone? What if he was lying in that hospital bed... Wondering why Frank didn't come visit?

The forgotten sketchbook was just a flimsy excuse. It was almost full up anyway, but perhaps that made it more valuable. Frank had taken a quick peek and was impressed, if a little scared. City skylines, houses and spiky, bare trees. Terrifying people who weren't really people at all; they'd have the head of a lion or the body of a chimp, and they looked like they were gonna leap of the pages and rip you to shreds with their jagged claws.

In short, Gerard could fucking draw.

He'd probably want these back, maybe they were drafts for some project: he'd mentioned that he was doing an online course instead of going back to school.

Frank kept it beside him in the passenger seat as he drove to Gerard's house, slowly because he didn't really know Belleville very well.

He'd forgotten Gerard's address, so he had had to do it the old school way and look it up in the phone book. There had only been one "Way" family. Frank hadn't thought it was that an unusual name.

He felt nervous as he rang the doorbell. For all he knew, Gerard could be out somewhere. God, how embarrassing would that be? He guessed that he'd just have to drive back home, like some loser...

Mikey answered the door, looking confused. Did they not get a lot of visitors?

Frank smiled, and the boy's eyebrow quirked up in response.

"Hi, I was looking for Gerard? Is he in?"

"Yeah..."

Mikey shuffled from one foot to the other in a way so similar to his older brother that Frank nearly burst out laughing.

"I don't know if he'll want visitors, though." He said quietly

"Oh..."

Frank didn't know what to say to that. Did that mean he should leave? It was painfully awkward.

Mikey sighed and started to speak, but a woman's voice interrupted him.

"Mikey, who's - Frank!"

Donna Way looked a little scary, with her platinum-dyed hair and long, red nails but any intimidation vanished once Frank saw how friendly her smile was.

"I'm here to...to visit Gerard..." He explained.

"Oh, fantastic! He could do with... some company."

She gently pushed Mikey out of the way and opened the door, inviting Frank in.

"Mikey, go wake Gerard. Would you like some coffee, or tea?"

"Um, coffee... thanks."

The kitchen was big. Mrs Way sat him down, leaving Frank to wonder why Gerard was sleeping at four in the afternoon: maybe he really _was_ sick.

A large pin board hung on the opposite wall. Receipts, family photo's and a calendar were attached to it.

Frank saw pictures of Gerard as a baby, squinting at the camera. Then a toddler, kneeling on a sheepskin rug and playing with a newborn Mikey. The pictures of Gerard progressed from child to pre-teen, and Frank couldn't see why he had thought himself _fat_. There were a few snap shots where the he had reached a certain level of chubby-ness, but that was normal, wasn't it? Everyone had baby fat (Frank knew he had) when they were eleven or twelve years old, but it was always shed off at puberty.

He couldn't stop staring at the pictures as Donna chatted to him about school and the weather. One picture of Gerard struck him particularly hard. He looked to be about seven, and was sitting on a porch step with a set of coloring pens resting on his lap. It was almost impossible to imagine that the little boy in the picture had already had awful things happen to him by someone he was supposed to be able to trust. Gerard's large smile and hazel eyes (just as wide and shiny as they'd see now) didn't look abused or scared. He looked just like an ordinary kid.

Mikey came back a second later, his glasses slipping down his nose.

"Gee'll be ready in a few minutes; he wants to finish something."

"Thanks."

Frank smile at the younger boy, an he inclined his head before heading over to the counter to make himself a sandwich. God, that kid was serious.

"I'm glad Gerard is friends with you," Donna said quietly.

The sudden change of conversation made Frank start.

"I like him," he replied in what he hoped was an evasive tone. "We've got a lot of stuff in common."

"He's just... He was never good at making friends; I'm glad he has you. It's no wonder he's ill, all he does is lie in that basement."

"That basement" was certainly spooky, Frank thought as he descended down the stairs and gingery pushed open the door.

There was no natural light: instead a small lamp cast shadows along the walls. Just like Frank's room, the walls were plastered in band posters and flyers. A shelf that ran the whole way across one wall was stuffed with CD's and tapes. Books were piled into cardboard boxes. The spare few inches of whitewashed wall were covered up in what looked like Gerard's own drawings. A stuffed bat in it's own special glass case resided on the desk that was cluttered with art supplies.

In short, it was the coolest fucking room he'd ever seen.

Gerard himself sat cross-legged on his unmade bed. He looked awful; like, _really bad._ He'd lost even more weight and his eyes were weighed down by bags that looked like large purple bruises. Frank smiled, but it wasn't returned. Gerard seemed a little out of it, and his eyes were misty.

"You'll have to forgive me," he croaked. "I'm not feeling too good."

"No shit." Frank joked and the boy chucked weakly.

The laughter suddenly died and abruptly turned to tears.

"I'm sorry..." Gerard mumbled.

He'd curled up on the bed and was trying to shield his face. Frank didn't know why he suddenly felt so...so _un-self conscious. _He scooted forward until he was lying beside the sobbing boy, and wrapped his hands round his middle in a hug.__

Gerard didn't do any of his normal motions he usually displayed when being touched. He went still for a moment, then turned over and buried his face in Frank's chest, still crying.

"Shh, it's okay." Frank held him tight until the weeping had subsided, and they were huddled together in silence.

"I'm sorry." Gerard said again. He sounded exhausted. "I just needed to get that out, I guess."

"I thought you were mad at me or something," Frank whispered back."You didn't reply to my texts."

"I didn't think you'd want to talk to me anymore."

Gerard was looking at him now, directly in the eye.

"I thought it was for the best... I'll just drag you down."

Frank couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"I..." He faltered. "Gerry...I really, really like seeing you and I want you to get better... I want to help."

Frank kept Gerard hugged tight to him as he said this, partly because the boy was shivering in his pajama shorts and t-shirt, but mostly because he wanted to let Gerard know that he really meant it. He could feel the other boy's heart beating wildly against his rib cage and he saw how bitten-down his nails were, so much so that the flesh around them was raw and pink, and his cuticles were covered in dried blood.

All he could think about was how badly he wanted to slow it down; to help Gerard stop being so scared.

Gerard had been surprised when Mikey came down and told him Frank was at the door. In fact, he was sure that his brother had been joking. Now, as the boy held him in his arms, he still didn't really think it was real.

This could be because the painkillers and sleeping pills he was taking made everything a little bit off. He felt lucid and woozy, and Frank's voice was soothing and warm.

Maybe that was why he didn't try to resist when Frank came so close. He normally wouldn't let anyone touch him like this, not Mikey or his mom or anyone. He didn't think of himself as a hug-y kind of person.

Whatever it was,he found himself talking: saying more to Frank than he'd said to Dr. Cosa in half a year.

He told Frank about the awful nightmares he'd gotten about the night he'd been trapped in that guy's apartment. He described to the pain: about how he felt as though he'd been ripped in half when he was assaulted.

He talked about the way his Uncle had said he was a " _good boy_ " all those years ago in that bathroom, and the way his attacker had ripped his hair from his scalp and called him a slut.

Gerard recalled aloud all the times he'd taken speed in bars or the time a guy had made him do cocaine off a motel floor. He had cut into his arms with a razor after his nights with these johns, because the pain gave him something else to concentrate on and allowed him to forget how fucking _dirty_ he was.

He'd thought he was going to die that night when his client had gone crazy. He'd been woozy and confused from the sedatives that had been put in his drink. And his hands and been clamped in a vice-like grip behind his back. The punches to his face and kicks to his stomach had stunned him, and he could only squeak in protest as he was turned over and undressed; he'd barely been able to breathe as he'd been penetrated.

He said all of this as Frank ran his fingers through his filthy hair and rubbed his back. He kept going until his voice had cracked and he couldn't speak anymore, and then he just cried some more.

Then, Frank told him about how he hated the thought of his dad having another kid, a new baby who he'd love more than the son he had had with the woman he'd no longer loved. He voiced his worries about how pointless going to collage and getting a degree in some phoney subject seemed. Frank wanted to start a band, and make just enough money to live off. He wanted to do something he enjoyed and was passionate about (like his mother had done) and not follow in his father's footsteps and end up sitting in some office for twenty years, rotting at a desk.

Frank didn't cry: his voice sounded muffled when he talked about how his dad had never gotten round to teaching him saxophone, and now probably never would.

"I'm sorry Frankie." He whimpered as he nuzzled the other boy's chest.

Frank snorted and his hand found Gerard's.

"It's nothing compared to what you've had to go through."

Gerard didn't think that, just because he'd had it harder, Frank wasn't allowed to be sad. He envied how close Frank had been to his father, and wished he'd been sadder when his own dad had left them.

"I like you so much Frank," he murmured. "I'm sorry I kissed you... I'm so sorry."

"I'm not," Frank whispered back, and pushed his lips up against Gerard's.

Gerard's brain felt like it had spun into some kind of electric tornado, a bit like that diagram of someone's brain when they're turning in _The Walking Dead_. All he can think about is that his mom could come in any minute, and how fucking luckily it was that he'd brushed his teeth after throwing up this morning. But It was sweet and intimate, not even remotely sensual.

There was no desire for hands to roam downward or for things to escalate. Frank just wanted to show the tired boy how much he cared for him, how he wanted to take all the pain and hurt away. Gerard's eyes were half closed, and he clutched at Frank like a life line. Eventually they broke away. Gerard felt more like smiling than he had in weeks, he wanted to feel like that again. He wanted to feel like that forever.

"What are we doing?" He asked quietly.

Frank bit his lip.

I don't think you need a boyfriend right now."

The words shattered any hope Gerard had stored in his chest. Frank might like kissing him, but that was all. Maybe he'd be a good fuck, but they'd never be together. He was just a used up, ruined, tainted, contaminated _whore_.

He couldn't say anything. All he could think about how the rest of his life was going to be just like this. Even if he never revealed his past to anyone, he didn't know if he'd ever be able to overcome the barriers he himself had constructed to protect himself from the world. He didn't even want sex with Frank. He wanted love: not primal fucking.

"I mean..."

Frank attempted to gesticulate, but it was difficult, considering one of his hands was threaded in Gerard's hair and the other holding his hand.

"Doing this... I've wanted to do it since I first like, met you. But... Maybe we could be...unofficial? We could be like boyfriends, except no...sex."

Of course Frank wouldn't want to fuck him. Why would anyone want to put their dick in someone as filthy as him? Gerard thought bitterly. It made total sense.

"You don't ever have to fuck me, if you don't want to," he blurted.

He knew that Frank's face would be shocked, and he blushed. Sure enough, Frank had gently grasped his chin and maneuvered his jaw so that they were looking at each other.

"It's not that I don't want to have sex with you," He said quietly, and Gerard noted in surprise that the guy actually looked hurt. "Gerry, you're a rape victim. If we had sex then it could trigger a lot of stuff... Stuff you're not ready to cope with. It's basic physiology. That's why we shouldn't... I couldn't live with myself if I hurt you.

Gerard winced at the "R" word. Frank didn't understand that it wasn't rape, he'd flirted with that guy, and all the other guys he'd had sex with. He wasn't an innocent kid who'd been dragged into an alley on his way to school, he'd know what he was doing, he had been conscious of the risks. He'd asked for it, he'd had it coming.

"We can be boyfriends, if that's what you want," Frank soothed, "but I just don't think it's good to go any further than... _this_. We should, like, spend more time with each other and shit like that."

"It _is_ what I want." Gerard mumbled, and he'd never said truer words in his life.

"But is it what _you_ want?" He asked.

Frank's eyes widened and he looked like he was trying not to smile. Was he making fun of him? Or was he laughing at the possibility of not wanting to be with him? Gerard was tempted to go with the former, but Frank's lips were so insistent he knew it was something stronger. He felt like something bad and tiring was being drained out of him every time his lips touched Frank's.

"You're like, fluent in kissing," he mumbled, and Frank snorted with laughter, banging their heads together.

Gerard laughed too, then, because this was what being a teenager was supposed to be like. Lying in bed with your boyfriend or girlfriend, kissing and laughing, because they shouldn't just be a lover, they should be a best friend too.

"Maybe I should stay over." Frank whispered as he nuzzled Gerard's neck. Gerard hummed in agreement.

"I'll ask mom, she likes you."

"Who doesn't?" Frank mumbled, still doing his best to keep their lips joined together. Gerard giggled at that, and half an hour later he managed to bring himself to pull away and go talk to Donna.

That night they stayed in Gerard's basement and Frank drove to the nearby video store to rent _Zodiac_ , because it was quicker than driving all the way home to get his own copy.

There were a lot of jumpy bits (what would you expect from a film about a serial killer in the sixties?) and two minutes in, Gerard was pressed up tight against him. For ninety minutes Gerard forgot about everything. He'd thought that the escapism he was enjoying only happened when he was kissing Frank, but it seemed like his presence alone was enough to restore that feeling of security and normality. He and Frank speculated, laughed and went quiet as the tension built, and by the time the credits rolled at the end Gerard totally got why Frank loved this movie so much.

" _That's it?_ "

Frank chuckled and flicked Gerard's tiny T.V off.

"Yup."

"No _way_ ," Gerard breathed. He leaned back, so that his head was eating on Frank's thigh.

"And that's all a... a true story?"

"Yeah."

Frank sighed and ran his fingers through Gerard's hair, something that was starting to become a reflex for him.

"It's scary," said Gerard quietly. "There's so many bad people out there. Some of them aren't even bad, they're just mentally fucked up. But even the crazy ones who _aren't_ evil do _evil things_. You know that ninety percent of Serial Killers were abused as kids?"

He didn't know why he was crying into Frank's jean-clad thigh, but he was.

Frank must be sick of getting his clothes all soggy from his tears.

"Hey..."

Frank had pulled his up and they resumed the position they'd been in the first time they'd embraced that night.

"You're a _great person_ ," Frank's voice was genuine. It was strange: how he could go from making dick jokes to being so serious in a matter of seconds.

"It wasn't your fault, none of this was your fault. You're so hard on yourself, Gerry. You can relax, because no one's gonna fuck with you anymore."

"No one's gonna fuck with me, _literally_ ," Gerard said, still crying a little.

Frank snorted and covered his face, even though Gerard was the one who was getting snot everywhere from laughing so hard while crying.

He'd read somewhere that laughing was a form of hysteria when you were upset, and that just about fitted the mood right now.

"Oh my _God_ " Frank said, wiping his eyes. "Seriously, dude, I try to be all mature and you come out with _that_?"

They laughed some more and switched between Frank telling Gerard how he was the fucking sweetest guy ever who'd never even hurt a fly, and laughing their asses off at how bad _The Omen_ was.

Gerard knew that just because he'd had one fantastic night it didn't mean the road ahead was smooth. However, having Frank spoon him in his little bed and sing Country & Western music in his ear at two in the morning made him consider that, maybe, he should postpone his plan.


	16. When I wake up, You're The First To Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a little filler-type thing until I have time to finish off the actual chapter. I was going to just include this little scene in my next chapter, but it didn't sound right and I couldn't find anywhere to put it. I also gave up trying to do italics. AO3 don't have an app, so uploading something from my phone is hell. Once I get to my laptop I'll finalise it properly. Oh, and no one replied to my request for a bit of fan art... Which is a bit sad. But, the offer still stands! The chapter title comes from a song called Failure By Design by Brand New

It seemed like no time at all had gone by when Frank found himself talking on his grandma's phone to Gerard on Christmas Eve. 

Ideally, they'd be together right now, spooning in Gerard's bed and watching stupid cat videos on youtube or episodes of that new _Hannibal_ series until Mikey made them both come upstairs for dinner.

Then they'd behave and eat: Gerard spooning his special sludgy stuff that wouldn't mess with his stomach into his mouth without complaint and kicking Frank underneath the table the whole time. Frank would try not to laugh and answered all of Donna's questions about school and his idea for a band in between bites of spaghetti while Mikey looked on with his thin eyebrows raised and a small smile on his face.

But no, instead Frank's mom had thought it'd be a good idea to take him to visit his grandparents in Italy for the holiday break and leave Gerard alone and nervous back in the States.

"How's Italy?" Gerard had asked the minute he had picked up the phone.

"Too fuckin' _hot _for December," Frank had grumbled in reply. "I'm tanning though, which is good because I was beginning to get as pale as you."__

"Fuck off," laughed Gerard. Then his tone grew serious.

"All our, like, relatives are coming over tomorrow, I dunno what I'm gonna do."

Frank frowned. He heard the worry in the other boys voice, and he hadn't sensed that much fear since they decided to get together. Family are supposed to be the only ones you can really trust, and it broke his heart that Gerard would feel so uncomfortable around them. 

"I can't even _look_ at any of the men," Gerard said, and Frank could picture the haggard look on his face to match his distraught tone.

"It was even worse when dad visited, I couldn't touch him or even look at him. I know it's crazy because he'd n-never hurt me like that but I still...couldn't even hug him or say hi...h-he looked so h-hurt and disappointed.

Frank didn't know what to say to that. For once, he was lost for words. Watching someone as sweet as Gerard burst into tears when a male shop assistant asked if he needed help made Frank feel so fucking angry, first at his shitty Uncle who'd hurt him all those years ago and then at all the assholes who'd broken him down even further, especially the guy who'd fucking _date-raped_ him. 

Frank could only watch as Gerard became unwilling to leave the house at all, overcome with self-hatred and fear of what could be waiting outside his door; it was pretty fucking shitty.

"It's just the fact that they know," he heard Gerard mumble, "they still talk about Uncle Will when they think I'm not listening or whatever, and what am I gonna do when they ask how I'm doing at school? They don't know about what I did and how I was _arrested_ for it and-"

"Lie," replied Frank promptly, "you don't owe them _shit_. Besides, you're making it sound like you fucking murdered an old lady. You were the _victim_ there: you weren't even charged."

He heard Gerard shuffle about on the other end of the line, and he imagined him leaning against the banisters in his hall, peering nervously around to make sure no one was eavesdropping.

"I'm a terrible liar," He replied finally.

"Then how about you just stay in your room the whole time?" 

Sometimes Frank had to remember how different they were. He wouldn't put up with this kind of gossip-shit, whereas Gerard would take it in silence, all the time believing that it was something he deserved. He was glad his boyfriend didn't go to school: he'd have been eaten alive. He wouldn't know what to do if someone confronted him in the hallways or stuffed him in a locker, he'd probably simply have a panic attack.

"They don't have the right to talk about something as personal as that, if you hear them trashing you, tell 'em to fuck off."

He heard Gerard giggle on the other end, and he grinned. Gerard's dorky laugh was probably his most favorite thing ever, and he _definitely_ didn't hear it enough.

A voice yelled something on Gerard's end, and he heard his boyfriend's reply, slightly muffled, as though he had covered the mouthpiece with his hand.

"Um, Mikey wants me to say hi to Uncle Ron," Gerard mumbled. "He just got here a day early."

"Okay," said Frank gently. "Just keep calm, you got this yeah?"

"Yeah."

Gerard was taking steadying breaths, probably cupping his hands over his mouth so he could breathe better. Frank could only imagine how hard it was to be around another uncle after what the other one had done to him. He hoped this "Uncle Ron" understood that, and took it into account.

"C-can I call you later this evening?"

"Sure!" Frank made sure his voice was cheerful, so that Gerard wouldn't get any more wound up than he already was. He heard the phone being out down onto it's holder with a click.

He threw his head back and sighed. 

When Gerard called in a few hours he'd probably be crying. He really couldn't cope with people, the time they'd taken the bus (or at least _tried_ to) into town Gerard only made two stops before asking to get off. He had said that a man had sat across from him and that he'd touched their knees together, on _purpose._

For this reason, they mostly just hung out in each other's rooms, and when they wanted to go somewhere like the movies or the video store, Frank's mom usually drove them.

Sometimes Frank would sit up at night worrying about Gerard. He constantly talked about how he was a "waste of space," and how everyone would be "better off without me." 

He'd even admitted to Frank about how he had a plan. 

"I was gonna end everything the minute the discharged me, but now you're...with me. It's _complicated_ , I don't know if I can go through with it anymore."

Perhaps it was because of this that Frank always wanted to spend time with his boyfriend. He was terrified that this was all a dream: that he'd blink and Gerard would have never even existed.

This was the first time they'd really been away from each other since Frank had shyly asked Gerard if he wanted to go out with him, and he seemed to have taken the hours they'd spent together for granted. 

The sooner he got back to Jersey, the better.


	17. Oh, I'm Clumsy 'Cause She Finds Me Attractive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They lit up Gerard's face, and to Frank he looked just like a small child: getting such excitement and joy from a thing so trivial. His amber eyes glowed, and his small, neat teeth shined bright from the firelight whenever he laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the actual chapter, I think you can all agree there wasn't really any where appropriate for the phone call scene to go here, so that's why I posted it on it's own. I'm super excited that mychemiero has offered to do fan art, and I'm still tweaking my mix to make it perfect. Anyway, the chapter title is from the song I Can Lift A Car by Walk The Moon. Enjoy!

"Tell me about Frank."

His therapist had been surprised when Gerard had told her that he and Frank were together, but she had hardly said much about it. Now, she had her pen poised over her clipboard as Gerard tried to collect his thoughts.

"Well, um... W-What do you wanna know?"

"How long have you been together?"

"Three months...we hooked up just before Christmas."

Gerard talked about Frank casually because he still couldn't quite believe that someone that amazing would want to go out with him. He couldn't even say the "B" word yet; every time Frank would refer to him as his boyfriend Gerard felt like he'd been lit up from the inside.

It was easier to sleep when there was someone in bed beside you with their arms around your middle and going to his countless medical reviews was almost bearable when Frank held his hand.

"I'm not good enough for him," He said quietly. This thought had been in the back of his mind for a while now, and getting it out was a little like throwing up: unpleasant, but providing a wave of relief.

Dr. Cosa nodded encouragingly and he forced himself to elaborate.

"He...he says it doesn't matter if we don't f-have sex, but I know he wants to. I-I'm holding him b-back and... I'm scared that if I s-say no he'll l-leave for someone who'll always say yes.

"If Frank feels like sex is the only important thing then he isn't mature enough for a relationship."

"I _need_ Frank!" Gerard felt like he was going to cry. He couldn't enjoy their kisses and cuddles anymore, because he was terrified that Frank would ask if he wanted to go further. And he didn't. He really didn't.

Sex was humiliating, sex was painful. The last thing Gerard wanted was to look up and see Frank, one of the people he actually trusted, being the cause of that pain.

"He never asks, he never even let's his hands w-wander...and h-he keeps telling m-me how much he l-loves me. If he asks, I'll say yes because I need him and it ... it'll be my fault if I get hurt again."

He was using his hoodie sleeve to try and conceal his tears but Dr. Cosa, who'd seen this all before, tacitly nudged the box of Kleenexes in his direction.

"I think you're making this a bigger problem than it needs to be," she said bluntly. "Gerard, did you know that boys of your age aren't even _supposed_ to be sexually active?"

It was too late to think like that. He wasn't like most boys his age; he needed someone to be with him, otherwise, what was the point?

Besides, he was actually happy with Frank. Talking to his boyfriend and just breathing the same air as him kept him calm. They were friends. They laughed and goofed off and acted like normal teenagers, and Gerard had never wanted anything more.

"Talk to Frank and let him know what you're worried about," Dr. Cosa was writing out his repeat prescription while she gave out the advice. "You'll feel much better if your issues are out in the open."

 

They were making out on Frank's bed. The older boy had his hair smoothed down and his face was free of piercings, as he had just arrived from school.

It was the usual routine: Frank pulling him in close and exploring his mouth and neck, planting kisses all the way. Gerard gasped and moaned, enjoying it but scared, because he hadn't yet discussed his fears with the other boy, and he needed to.

"Frank," he gasped, and his boyfriend immediately pulled away, frowning in concern.

"What's up?"

Gerard wished he could fully appreciate the feeling of Frank's fingers running through his hair, but he was scared, so scared.

"I-I think we should break up," he mumbled. "I can't g-give you what you w-want."

"What?" Frank's jaw had gone slack, and his eyes were comically wide. He was almost straddling Gerard now, and the younger boy couldn't help but think about how easily Frank could take him like this, with or without consent

"Wait, no! I don't give a fuck! As long as we get to hang out and do this!"

He gestured around his cluttered room, and Gerard remembered how they'd stayed up late last night trying to get to the end of _The Walking Dead._

"I want to, but I'm scared it'll hurt again," He whispered, his voice barely audible.

Frank looked at him for a long time, his expression sad and something else Gerard couldn't quite place. Then, he smiled.

"Gerry, do you trust me?"

Gerard felt like ice was slipping down his stomach. He _did_ trust Frank, despite the fact that every instinct he had was screaming at him to _get the fuck out of there_.

He nodded.

"Okay. Just stay still baby. This is gonna feel good."

"Frankie?" Gerard whimpered. He wanted to pull his knees up to his chest; he wanted to hide.

"You'll like it Gerry, I promise."

Frank had unzipped his jeans, and they were pooled around his ankles. Gerard was shaking like a leaf, his fingers gripping onto the bed sheets like a lifeline.

He watched with large, terrified eyes as Frank gently peeled back his boxers, leaving him exposed.

"Has anyone ever done this for you before?"

He couldn't speak, his voice was jammed with nerves and something else in the pit of his stomach, so he just shook his head jerkily.

"Fine. If you really do want me to stop, just say. Remember, it's gonna feel good."

"'Kay," Gerard whispered. He closed his eyes, his whole body tense as he waited for the pain that was surely going to come.

The next sensation was shocking.

Part of Gerard had always wondered why the people he'd sucked off had paid him so much. He'd figured that blow jobs must be good, if they were always in such a high demand, but _fuck_.

Franks mouth was hot and wet and _smooth_ , the feeling of pressure on his sensitive length and the friction of Frank's rough tongue was driving him crazy, sending shudders all the way up his spine.

"You alright?"

Frank had pulled off and was looking straight at him, his lips shiny and swollen from their previous kissing session.

"Fuck, please Frank don't stop, _please_ ," Gerard gabbled, and he thought he heard Frank laugh as he went back to work, his cheeks hollowed as Gerard grew unbearably hard.

It wasn't long before he suddenly felt a hot sensation pooling at the bottom of his stomach, all his muscles clenching and his breath hitching.

"Frankie, I'm gonna- _ahhhhh_ "

He came undone right there, with Frank's mouth still wrapped around his dick. Gerard made all sorts of embarrassing noises as he came, hard. He didn't think he'd ever felt this good, and for a few seconds he probably didn't even remember his name as he writhed around on Frank's bed sheets and his heart beat so fast he thought it was about to leap right out of his chest.

He was still panting when Frank slid back up beside him onto the bed and smoothly joined their mouths together once more. Gerard was still blissed-out and boneless from the orgasm, and he lay limp as they kissed. He could taste himself on Frank's tongue.

"You alright?" Frank whispered against his neck. Gerard still struggled to believe that it had actually happened. Nothing bad had happened, he'd had no awful flashbacks, and there hadn't been any pain. Frank had been sweet and he had done everything right.

"Did you... g-get off?" He stuttered. It didn't seem fair that Frank had had to do all of the work. He watched Frank's lips tug up into a grin as they both looked at the bulge in his jeans.

"Maybe some other time. Today's all about you."

"I want you to... enjoy it too..."

"Believe me, I did."

Gerard let Frank do most of the work as they kissed, he was still hyper sensitive and exhausted. This was good, wasn't it? There hadn't been pain, Frank had taken care of him and they'd both enjoyed it. So why did Gerard feel so... _dirty_? He loved his boyfriend, this shouldn't feel wrong.

"I wanted you to feel good, for once." Frank was saying as he planted chaste kisses on his cheek as he spoke.

"Did it feel good baby?"

"Yeah."

It had been good, and he half wanted to do it again right now, so why was he crying?

"Woah, Gerry, hey..."

Frank had sat them both up, and he looked like he was gonna burst into tears himself.

"I don't know w-why I'm... I did like it, I'm s-sorry Frank..."

With Frank's hand on his back he managed to pull himself together and prepare to talk to his boyfriend like a normal fucking person.

"I feel like I...don't _deserve_ it..." He mumbled into his lap.

"It's gonna feel a bit strange, because we haven't ever done anything like that before." replied Frank gently. "But we can go back to kissing, and don't even think for a second that you had to...return the favor, 'Kay?"

"You're so nice..." Gerard trailed off hopelessly. He wrapped his arms around the older boy, and buried his face into the crook of his neck.

"I'm glad we did it... I _liked_ it...but..."

"But you feel guilty about it," Frank finished for him. "You feel bad for liking it, don't you?"

Gerard thought for a second, before nodding. He realized that Frank had just verbalized the thoughts he'd been having for months. He loved how in tune they were with each other. One always knew when the other was sad, and Frank was much more eloquent than he was. Therefore, he was able to express feelings and stuff much better.

"I'm just... scared," he said at last. Frank pulled him in closer.

"I...I wish that I could just... un-fuck all those guys," he sighed.

Frank almost laughed at that, then he pushed Gerard's tangled hair off his face, so that they were eye-to-eye with each other.

"You're so fucking _tough_ , Gerry," Frank said simply. "The fact that you're still here, after fucking everything, It's _amazing_ , it really is."

Gerard made a non-committal noise and turned his head away, his cheeks pink. He didn't agree with what Frank had said one bit, but he appreciated what the other boy was trying to do for him.

"Are you okay? You're shivering."

Frank was rubbing his arms, and glancing down, Gerard saw that he had goosebumps.

"I can't believe th-that we...we...you sucked me off and I didn't freak out."

God, why was he stuttering so bad? In front of _Frank_ , of all people?

"It makes me think that one day...we could be like, a normal couple...or as normal as we both could get..."

That made Frank laugh, because they were far from the conventional "couple" stereotype.

"Course we can", Frank mumbled, "c'mon, d'you wanna maybe watch a movie or something?"

Gerard bit his lip, obviously deep in thought.

"I have...an idea?"

Frank nodded encouragingly, rubbing his boyfriend's knee soothingly.

"You've got a...a tent in your garage, right? Well, if you want, we could set it up in your back yard and have a camp out!"

Frank's face split into a grin when he saw how excited his boyfriend was.

"I think that's one of your best ideas, _ever_."

 

Gerard had never looked more fucking adorable than he did that night in that tent. He was bundled up in several of Frank's sweaters, and a woolly hat was jammed on his head.

It had taken them a good half hour to set the fucking thing up in the first place, and the march wind was less than welcoming as they struggled to match the right pole with the right holder. At one point Gerard keeled over, completely tangled in the canvas, laughing so hard he almost choked and Frank thought he'd have to hide a body as well as clear up this tent mess.

Eventually the mess of plastic and metal poles was in a vaguely recognizable tent-form. They both dropped down onto their knees and crawled inside, Gerard almost tripping over Frank's feet.

"It's so cold!" He giggled, and Frank scooted closer, throwing an arm around his shoulders.

"We'll just have to snuggle then, won't we?"

They gathered twigs and bits of recycled newspaper and cleared a space just a few meters from the mouth of the tent. Frank used his bic lighter to spark a flame and get the whole thing started.

Soon, they even had a pack of marshmallows (though few were eaten because Gerard's still sensitive stomach couldn't handle too many of them at once) and the fire was burning merrily. Small sparks leaped from the flames and landed on the wintry grass like little pools of gold.

They lit up Gerard's face, and to Frank he looked just like a small child: getting such excitement and joy from a thing so trivial. His amber eyes glowed, and his small, neat teeth shined bright from the firelight whenever he laughed.

 

"I love you," Gerard mumbled shyly.

It was an hour or so later, and the fire had burned down to almost nothing, so they crawled back into their tent and swamped themselves in blankets.

Gerard smelled like chocolate and sleep. He and Frank were wrapped tightly together, their limbs intertwined. Frank didn't feel like they needed to kiss, he was happy enough feeling the boys head rise and dip and he breathed and his wide smile and soft, shiny eyes. He had one small dimple on the right side of his face, like a tiny dent in butter.

"I love you too, so so fuckin' much," he breathed back, and Gerard made a happy, cooing sound: a sound Frank had never heard him make before.

~

"Y'know Frank, I have these awful dreams about what that guy.. did to me, but then again, if he hadn't dragged me back to that apartment, i'd never have ended up in that hospital and I'd never have met you... "

Frank had turned off the flashlight, so he couldn't make out Gerard's face very clearly in the gloom. He could hear the sadness, the confusion in the other boys voice as he continued to speak, his breath tickling Frank's jaw.

"Never knowing you, never being with you...I really can't imagine that."

 


	18. I'll Keep My Eyes Fixed On The Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inside though, he couldn't stop smiling. He didn't know if this feeling was going to last forever. All he was certain of was that he was seventeen years old and in love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay, I was amazed to see this fic posted on an actual rec-ist-tumblr blog! it made me feel so special! The chapter title is a song called "Shake Me Down" by Cage The Elephant.

They say that time flies when you're having fun.

Frank knew that he should be feeling nothing but stress, as late March and early April meant exams and hours hunched over a desk: studying for a test which would dictate the next ten years of his life.

He did all of this. He pretended to groan with the rest of his classmates when their teacher set them a five-page essay and he made sure that his expression was suitably miserable whenever someone brought up all the homework they had.

Inside though, he couldn't stop smiling. He didn't know if this feeling was going to last forever. All he was certain of was that he was seventeen years old and in love.

Love was fickle. Gerard liked to philosophize in the lazy hours of the morning and evening, and they both agreed that true love was fleeting; that unselfishness and sacrifice were by-products of steadiness and commitment but didn't belong to the burning and fierce passion Frank was prone to exhibiting whenever he was with his boyfriend. He was certainly protective: a hot rush of anger came coursing through Frank when Gerard flinched and cried, when he shook all over from a night terror or had a panic attack in the middle of a shopping mall. Frank's only desire was to get every single person who had hurt the younger boy and destroy them, wipe them away from Gerard's memory and tear-glazed cheeks.

The recklessness that they sometimes felt didn't mean that they didn't care about each other. They were young: as they grew older they would stop wanting to cling to each other constantly and would selflessly give each other the space to change and explore and become new.

Gerard especially would need this. Frank knew that in the near future, (maybe in a year, maybe in two) the thin, black-haired boy would need to figure out what he needed in his own, personal recovery. He'd need to be away from Frank's crushing love and suffocating protection.

He'd wander off for a while and eventually fix himself, and then when he returned they'd both be stronger because of it. Frank didn't know exactly how they were going to manifest, and he didn't even care.

He'd acquired this beautiful sense of tranquility, because he somehow just knew that he and Gerard were going to be together for a long long time.

 

"I wish I'd been a clone grown in a test tube, then I wouldn't even have a birthday...or I could at least've been born later in the year so that I wouldn't have to deal with this shit _now_."

Frank had planned Gerard's birthday a good month before the actual date, and the endless preparation made the day seem kind of surreal when it finally did arrive.

"Birthdays are _supposed_ to be fun," he stressed.

Gerard's dad hadn't arrived yet, so he, Gerard and Mikey were lounging around in the basement, pretending to watch T.V. Gerard, being Gerard, had shied away from attention and demanded that there was minimal fuss. His birthday ended up as Frank, Mikey and Gerard's mom and dad being the only ones invited to attend.

However, considering that Gerard's dad was twenty minutes late there might only be four of them at the festivities tonight.

"Chill, Gee."

Mikey spoke suddenly and his older brother jumped. After weeks of practically living at Gerard's house Frank had realized that, although Mikey was barely thirteen, he was mentally the older sibling. They'd worried that he wouldn't make it home for Gerard's birthday, but Frank knew that even if Mikey had died, he'd probably have gone all zombie and crawled out of his grave to be there.

He'd put that theory to Gerard this morning, partially to stop him fretting so much and provide a distraction, but also because he hoped Gerard would illustrate it: comic-style. It'd be super bad-ass.

"Seriously, you know dad is late for everything, he'll turn up."

"Listen to your brother for once, 'specially as he's right", Frank chided, and Mikey gave a little huff of amusement.

"Yeah yeah _yeah_ ," said Gerard, his expression sour as he paced back and forth and wrung his hands frantically. "You're all right and I'm wrong. I'm dumb and crazy and they should probably increase the medication dosage to calm me down, or just lock me up in a nut house. Whatever."

That hurt a little. Gerard rarely ever got mad: mostly because he had Frank to do that on his behalf. Mikey sensed the change in atmosphere and turned up the television's volume to will it away.

Gerard stopped pacing and slouched on the end of his bed, his head drooping so that his chin touched his chest.

"Sorry," he said miserably.

Frank opened his mouth to reassure Gerard and rebuke his apology, but the doorbell drowned him out.

Mikey jumped up from where he'd been sitting and grabbed his brothers shoulders, heaving him off the bed and delivering shoves to the small of his back until he was forced to start up the stairs.

"Mikey, _fuck off_!" Gerard hissed. His expression was pure panic and Frank wondered (not for the first time) why his boyfriend was so nervous about talking to his own father.

Mikey took pity on his brother and bounded forward to greet Donald Way, allowing Gerard to make his way to the hall at his own pace.

"There he is!"

Donald pulled his eldest son into a tight embrace the minute he'd slunk out into the hall, and Frank wished he could make out the expression on the boys face as he was held in the hug for a good minute. Gerard then was led into the living room, leaving Mikey and Frank in the hall, cracking up at Donald's exclamations of how tall he was.

Frank thought he could hear Gerard's rather muted response as he followed suit, but he didn't have time to clarify this, because Donna was offering him a seat. He opted to sit beside Gerard, who was sitting on the rug in front of the T.V with his legs sprawled out underneath him.

"Don, this is Frank." She ruffled his hair and Frank tried to smile at both of them at the same time.

"So, this is the guy I've been told so much about?"

Mr Way smiled and shook Frank's hand before taking a seat on the couch beside his ex-wife.

"Well, It's good that Gerard finally has a friend... you go to Belleville High?"

"Queen Of Peace," said Frank awkwardly. He thought that the "friend" comment may have stung a bit. Gerard was fiddling with the edge of the rug, avoiding his eye. "My family are Catholic...so...yeah."

"I'm cooking tonight, so I'll be in the kitchen. It'll be ready in ten."

Mikey had his head poked around the door frame. His glasses were askew and he looked mildly flustered.

"Sure thing, Mikes." replied Donna fondly. She smiled when she heard a loud crash from the kitchen.

"Frank had planned a night out at some gig, but I think a quiet dinner is nice too."

" _Dinner_?" Sighed Donald with a shake of his head, "he's _seventeen_ , not forty seven. Why didn't you go out with your friends?"

This question was directed at Gerard, who shrunk from his father's gaze and looked like he wished the carpet would swallow him up whole. Frank felt dismayed when he could only stutter incomprehensibly in reply. Gerard hasn't had any problems talking for months.

"The tickets were pricey." Frank lied, "we'll all go out to something next week, maybe."

In truth, Gerard had had a panic attack last night when sleeping over at his house. Frank had sent a text out to the guys and cancelled; it had taken a good hour to calm his boyfriend down and assure him that he hadn't "let anyone down" by pulling out.

Dinner was spaghetti with M&M's instead of meatballs. It was quite possibly the weirdest yet most delicious thing Frank had ever tasted. The meal was, apparently, some kind of crazy Way tradition, starting when Mikey had first cooked Gerard's birthday meal aged five.

"So Frank", began Gerard's father genially, "got a girlfriend?"

Mikey snorted into his plate and tried to pass it off as a coughing fit.

"N-no" Frank stuttered "not right now, anyway."

He kept one hand on Gerard's under the table, stroking it reassuringly.

"Studying?" asked Donald with a wry smile. "It's alright for some, though, huh?"

He nudged Gerard, who promptly blushed and ducked his head.

"I personally wanted him to go back to high school...it's important for kids to mix with other kids, y'know?"

"I'm d-doing school, dad." Gerard stammered. "I'm d-doing cour-courses online and-"

"Online!" Mr Way waved his fork dismissively. "You're spending all day hunched in front of a computer! He needs to join some community team; he needs to interact!"

"Gerard does interact." Donna said sharply.

"Yeah" Mikey chimed in "Frank and Pete and Bob and Ray and Ryan are _always_ hanging 'round here."

Donald looked slightly surprised at his sons rebuttal, but nodded all the same.

"Good. That's good. You do look better, Gerard. You've put on some weight, thank God.

"Y-yeah...I...my...stomach's...b-better and I can, um...eat m-more."

That was the last thing Gerard said until the birthday cake was brought out as dessert. Despite his comment about his stomach having improved, the younger boy merely toyed with his slice.

Frank couldn't help but feel some hostility towards Gerard's dad. He spent the rest of the dinner quizzing Mikey on school, and only diverted his attention back to his oldest son when he and Frank made to leave the table.

"Help me take these plates out to kitchen, will you, Gerard?"

Mikey got the hint before Frank did and pulled him away, back down to the basement.

Frank wanted to be near his boyfriend, he wanted to protect him. He mumbled an excuse about needing the bathroom and legged it upstairs to the hallway.

Through the distorted glass kitchen door he could make out Gerard and Mr. Way. Their outlines were strangely rippled, but he could tell that they weren't doing the dishes: in fact, Gerard seemed to be leaning on his father heavily, and the man had an arm wrapped around his son.

He felt a rush of guilt. Donald Way obviously wanted the best for Gerard; assuming that he was out to hurt him was clearly a stupid thing to think.

He slipped back down to the basement, and Gerard joined them moments later. His eyes were slightly puffy, and he was running one hand through his hair bashfully.

"I need to call Alicia," said Mikey abruptly.

As he walked out, Frank marveled at the boy's tact. Gerard collapsed on his bed, and Frank promptly joined him.

"My thirteen year old brother has way more friends than I do" Gerard sighed.

"Oh," Frank did his best to sound affronted. "Am I not enough then?"

"Shut up," Gerard cracked the first, genuine smile he'd seen in hours. "You know what I mean, asshole."

"Sure dude... _bro_... _broski_... _man_... _brotha_." He delivered light punches to his boyfriend's arm; adopting the masculine tone the douches in the school locker room often used.

Gerard laughed and groaned, squirming away from Frank's touch, then twisting back around and tickling him.

Frank wasn't remotely ticklish, and he was never more thankful for this than he was now. He was able to overpower the other boy and dig his fingers into his side, causing him to go crazy.

"Stop, stop, stop!" Gerard wheezed, he rolled over and gasped for air when Frank eventually let up.

"I love that cute little giggle, baby..." He purred, and Gerard promptly made fake yet convincing retching-sounds.

"Fuck off, I'm sick of this homophobic stereotype! I may be gay, but I'm as manly _as fuck_!"

He sat up a little straighter and fixed Frank with a stern glare, clearly trying not to laugh.

" _Giggle_?" " _Baby_?" what is this? Some shitty tween movie?"

"Maybe. If it was I'd definitely give you your present right about...now."

Gerard glanced around uncertainly, as though he expected a gift to suddenly descend from the ceiling. Frank burst out laughing.

"Here."

He shoved a newspaper-wrapped bundle at his boyfriend, and Gerard cradled it gleefully.

"Fuck, Frank..."

When Frank thought about it, he guessed that a pair of skinny jeans weren't really that special or impressive, but he'd seen them online from a retail in London and immediately knew that they were something Gerard would love.

Gerard ran his fingers over the powder-blue, expensive material: taking in the creases and discreet studs around the pockets. He looked up at Frank in wonder.

"They're _exactly_ like the ones fuckin' Danny Zuko wears in _Grease_..."

"Look harder," Frank urged, and Gerard felt them over again cautiously, eventually digging into the pockets.

"Huh?"

He pulled out a card, stared at it for a few seconds, then burst out laughing.

"A fifty dollar gift card... for a haircut!"

"Fucking use it! okay, _Grease Lightin'_?" Frank laughed as Gerard smothered him in a tight hug.

"I will... _fuck_ , mom's gonna be happy."

Gerard had turned pink from pleasure, and he was still clutching his jeans as he wrapped his arms tighter around Frank and kissed him until they were both out of breath.

Frank only paused for a few seconds before resuming the kiss. He straddled the younger boy and the jeans slipped, unnoticed, to the floor. Gerard suddenly seemed to radiate a kind of desperation and urgency. He pulled Frank closer and closer, so that their noses bumped and all they could see was each others eyes, dark and needy and desperate. This was different to the other times, a world away from the soft sweet exchanges they'd shared before. Frank allowed his hands to wander; he traced his hands down Gerard's shirt and across his belly, then back up to the sharp indent of his collarbones and his thick, dark hair.

Gerard was breathing heavily, and Frank could feel his heart beating a frantic rhythm: pulsing up against the palm of his hand, which was resting on top of his boyfriend's shirt. He let this hand slide down, and a shudder deep from his stomach as Gerard moaned at the direct, skin-on-skin contact. Their eyes met and, without speaking a word, Frank knew that they were ready. He'd known what Gerard wanted from the moment he had pulled him in for the rough kiss, coupled with his sensual tongue. Frank had known then, and he knew now.

Technically, teenagers cannot have what is conventionally known as "great sex". Seventeen year old boys are filled with hormones. They are so inexperienced and clumsy from the wonder of each other's bodies that half the time they don't know what they're doing and what they're touching. Frank had ungracefully removed his shirt and was struggling with Gerard's, when a hand stopped him.

"Could you not... j-just my pants, yeah?"

"Sure," replied Frank breathlessly. The last thing he wanted was for Gerard to be uncomfortable. He wanted this time to be perfect.

Once the awkward shedding of clothes was over with, things escalated with the same intensity as it had done minutes before. Gerard's lips were swollen and pink and his eyes half-lidded. He was spread out underneath Frank, his skin so smooth and pale and unmarked that it drove Frank crazy.

He kept his eyes locked with the other boy's as he took him, half hard, in his hand. Gerard gasped and squirmed at the unfamiliar sensation, his toes curled and he slipped his arms around Frank's lean torso, pulling him in closer.

"There's this weird kind of soap in the bathroom," Gerard whispered, breaking the kiss and attempting to sit up. "Is that alright?"

The last thing Frank wanted to do was leave his boyfriend and walk the few feet to the en suite bathroom, but at least he didn't have to put his clothes back on and go back upstairs, passing Gerard's family.

The soap was oil free and water based. Frank tested it on his fingers.

"I guess it'll be fine, as long as we don't make a habit of using it. You've...done this before...right?"

Gerard nodded wordlessly. "Have you?"

"Not with a guy," Frank allowed some of the soap to leak out onto his fingers. He kept his eyes on Gerard's face as he slipped in a finger. "Is it okay?" 

It's fine," Gerard gasped. "A bit cold," he added. "Just keep going."

They carried on kissing as Frank inserted a second, and then third finger. The rampant heat of the moment and mutual desire between the two of them was tangible: Gerard gasped and moaned as Frank licked down his neck, and then pushed his shirt up to do the same to his hardened nipples.

Once again, Gerard didn't need to speak. He gripped Frank's arm and the other boy removed his fingers. Gerard spread his legs wider, hooking them around Frank's waist and reaching one hand up to his face to push his fringe out of his eyes.

The initial discomfort was present for both of them. Gerard gasped and clenched his legs around Frank tighter as he entered him. Frank, terrified of hurting him, brought their lips together once more and began to stroke the younger boy's length. Their tongues battled for dominance as Frank's thrusts sped up. Gerard brought his hips up to meet Frank's motions, and they rocked together in sync.

"'Bit Faster," gasped Gerard. "Fuck, that's it Frankie, I'm... _fuck_ "

His back arched, and Frank knew that he'd hit the right place. A shudder of pleasure rippled through Gerard's body, and he brought his hand down to pump himself, all the while urging Frank to "go faster."

Soon, Frank felt his own release uncoiling. He kept the pace and tried to work Gerard's erection, sliding his hand up and down until his hand was slick with pre-come. They crashed their foreheads together, and it should have hurt, but the force of the orgasm and the emotion in what they had just done numbed them to any pain.

Gerard came seconds after Frank. they threw their heads back and moaned each other's names, before Frank pulled out and collapsed beside his boyfriend, their breath coming in pants.

It had been jilted and awkward and simple. They'd been clumsy fingers, hurried actions and sloppy kisses. Gerard brought his jaw closer to Franks, and they lazily kissed. It had been over way too quick, but it had been perfect.

They'd spent another hour lying together with the bedroom door locked, sticky and breathless from what the had just done. Frank had guessed that they would eventually have sex, but he hadn't expected it to be anywhere _near_ tonight. Gerard allowing someone to be so close to him and see his vulnerability exposed was an honor, and it was then that Frank realized how much he must mean to Gerard; and how strong their relationship really was.

If Gerard had felt any fear or distrust, he hadn't shown it. Frank wondered, not for the first time, what Gerard's "customers" had been like once the sex was over. Did they tell him to get out? did they make him stay?

He was mindful of the fact that the last time Gerard had allowed someone so close to him, he'd been hurt. Horribly.

He held his boyfriend tighter, stroking his thumb over the top of his hand. Gerard sighed and snuggled closer. He wasn't shaking, he wasn't crying. Frank hardly dared to believe it, but maybe everything had gone alright.

.

"What were you and your dad talking about in the kitchen?"

Gerard blinked at the sudden question. It was a good hour after they'd collapsed on the bed in a messy tangle of limbs.They had gotten dressed, and Gerard had balled the messy sheets into his washing basket and rinsed himself off in the shower. He'd put on an old Bowie record, and when Frank had come out of the shower, he'd caught the younger boy dancing along to the music. Frank had stayed hidden behind the door for a few minutes, watching Gerard sway and bop awkwardly to Gene Genie. He looked adorably un-self-conscious, completely happy and comfortable. When Frank asked the question, he had sighed and looked away.

"He was, like, apologizing. I just get so nervous around him... after I was ... attacked, he wanted to send me to this clinic in fucking Arizona... I think it had a school as well, he treats me like I'm crazy."

"You're not though!"

"Yeah, well," Gerard shifted uncomfortably. "I kind of _am_ , I guess. But luckily mom thought that was the stupidest thing ever. She has custody over me...so she gets the final say, and the police were like, pushing that I go into foster care instead... so I did."

"Well, thank fuck for that!" Exclaimed Frank, sitting up and tugging at Gerard's elbow so that he did the same.

The place in Arizona his boyfriend had mentioned sounded like hell: Gerard was fragile, and a place like that would have crushed him.

"Yeah... but he knows he was being unreasonable, that's what he was apologizing for... I think he feels bad, he invited me to come up an' stay with him during the summer."

"That's good" Frank mumbled, pacified. He thought about his non-existent relationship with his own father, and thought about how he would react if his dad apologized to him. These were situations he couldn't comprehend, but he was glad that Gerard was, at last, getting some family resolution. There were already enough estranged fathers and sons as it was.

~ 

"You sure about this, kid?"

Gerard had never been to a hair salon like this one, his mom had always cut his hair for him, free of charge, in her her own establishment downtown.

Maybe that was why he'd decided to be radical. He was paying for his first ever professional hair cut in a hip salon; the kind of place you'd run into Mark Hoppus at!

He took a deep breath and nodded.

"Yeah, let's do this."

 


	19. Look How Far We've Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The only thing that was tangible and concrete was this moment right here: the two lovers with their arms tight around each other in a shabby basement in northern New Jersey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is the end. I loved writing this story, and I probably would have let it burn out if it wasn't for all the encouragement you guys have given me. 
> 
> huge thanks to rae anne (onewithshorthair) and mychemiero for the fanart, which can be found by putting the following into the address bar:
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/893741
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/899040/chapters/1737448
> 
> I also promised you guys a mix, so here it is!
> 
>  
> 
> http://8tracks.com/bohemian-fap-sody/nail-biters
> 
> And, lastly, here's the poem that inspired the story
> 
> http://31.media.tumblr.com/4a1c39bbf9beb413bb445377fa504011/tumblr_mhf7k9ZV3b1rqho6to1_500.jpg
> 
> I'm also going to start another fic, which will be another frerard. It'll be quite different to this one though. The chapter title is a song by Imagine Dragons...anyway, thank you and stay tuned!

Frank always liked to think that nothing was ever the same again after Gerard changed his hair. He'd been walking out of school two days after the birthday dinner, and his boyfriend had been hovering anxiously at the gates.

"What's Jack Frost doin' here?" Pete had said jokingly. Frank had looked over to see the person he'd known for almost a year walking shyly towards them. 

Gerard's hair, once black and shaggy and hanging past his ears and chin, was short. The hairdresser had trimmed it brutally close, as if the aim was to forget that he had anything on top of his head at all. The pale afternoon sunlight made his hair and matching eyebrows gleam silver-white, and although Frank would have never thought it could have worked, it did. The blinding silver was perfect with his pink-and-white complexion and haunting dark eyes.

It was kind a kind of symbolism, Gerard had explained as they'd walked from the school back to Frank's. Gerard-with-the-black hair was a person he had never wanted to be, a person who'd been scared and depressed. He talked about "metaphorical representation" and how changing a hair color or physical appearance could trick his mind into thinking that it was a new person.

His therapist had suggested he "reinvent himself" and this seemed like a good way to go about it.

"It's a new start!" Gerard exclaimed, waving his hand to emphasize his point and nearly knocking Frank's bag off his shoulder. "Before I know it, I'll be eighteen and applying for all these art schools...if I work on feeling better now then I'll be totally ready by graduation!"

 

Frank often thought about Gerard's words, especially now, two years later. 

He was nearly three inches taller and a couple of bar fights tougher, but he still couldn't go near a spider without screaming like a seven year old girl.

Gerard had grown too; he'd put on enough weight to stop people on the street giving him sideways looks and wondering if he was a cancer patient. His hair had grown out, but he still kept it short and white. Frank had grown attached to the little silver tufts that poked up around his ears and forehead, as soft as a duckling. If Frank was a mushy kind of guy he'd say this out loud and call Gerard his "little duck" or something equally ridiculous: luckily he kept it to himself.

Gerard spent most of his time trying to meet his course deadlines and moaning to Frank about how hard algebra was in between their heated kisses. Frank often had to stop and push his boyfriend off him, because nothing was less of a turn on than school work.

( "I've never even met my goddamn teacher and she's given me twenty questions with the quadratic formula... I think it's "y = mc squared"... or something like that... no wait, that's trigonometry!"

"For fuck's sake Gerard! I'm trying to make out with you and you're talking about fucking math?!")

In fact, whenever they slept at each other's houses (which was every other night), Gerard would suddenly sit up at 3:26AM and wail that he'd written a dumb answer on his scholarship application.

Gerard's dream of going to California never happened. Instead, his fear of "not getting anywhere" and ending up as a hairy, basement-dwelling hermit was omitted and he had been accepted into a prestigious, modern art school in central New York. Frank was delighted for his boyfriend, but a nagging voice whispered that he was due to leave for his first semester in less than a month, and that was way too fucking soon.

Whenever Frank saw Gerard's half-packed suitcase, or all the applications and paperwork stacked three feet high on his desk, he felt a huge surge of pride. Gerard was truly dedicated; he'd achieved something he'd fantasized about since he was fourteen years old.

The Gerard who came out to Frank's shows every weekend and slept beside him in his cramped bed was a different person: a person completely unrecognizable from the boy who'd sat in his kitchen, alone and afraid nearly three years before.

One thing did remain the same, though. Whenever Frank pulled his boyfriend close and whispered these things into his ear, whenever he told him how perfect and smart and talented he was, Gerard still blushed bright red and stammered like the kid he had once been. And for that, Frank loved him even more.

Their time was quickly running out: Gerard would soon be in a strange city. He'd be leaving Frank to play Pencey shows without the comfort of seeing his best buddy and boyfriend hanging off the barricade, nodding his head enthusiastically to the music.

He was trying hard not to think of it like that. Gerard would be going away for eight whole weeks, and then he'd only be back in Jersey for a couple days before he had to go back for his next semester. Frank very much doubted that they'd ever even been apart for three weeks, let alone eight.

He'd been thinking like that last night when staying over at Gerard's. Ryan and Brendon had long since disappeared upstairs and Bob, Ray and Pete were fast asleep on the floor, despite the fact that Gerard had heaved an old mattress out of the attic just for them.

Gerard had gotten into bed after Frank, so he was being the big spoon for a change. It was nice, Frank thought, having Gerard wrap his arms tightly around his middle and feeling his slow breath on his neck.

"You're the quietest sleeper I've ever known," he whispered into the dark.

Close behind him he heard Gerard chuckle and squeeze his torso tighter in reply. Frank grinned and wiggled onto his belly, and then did a half turn onto his left side so that he and Gerard were face to face in the cramped basement bed.

"Whenever we sleep together I always get so fuckin' nervous... I can't help thinking about how you could just, like, die and I wouldn't notice... y'know, cause you breathe so quiet. I gotta look at you and make sure your chest is moving up and down and then I usually check your pulse anyway... just in case."

He said his all in a rush, spurred on by the comforting darkness blanketing both of them. He felt Gerard move his hands from where they'd were resting, just above his stomach, and gently play with his hair.

"I'm not going anywhere, Frankie."

"Maybe not like that, but you are going away. To New York. The Big Apple and all that jazz." Frank tried to conceal the worry in his voice as he said this, but his lame attempt of a joke went unnoticed and Gerard rested his head gains his shoulder, gripping his shirt tightly.

"So what? We got cell phones. I'll be back before you know it."

"What if you meet other guys? Guys who are cooler and smarter and better-looking than me with hip, arty hair... like yours and-"

"Not possible," Gerard interrupted dryly. He patted Frank's cheek. "You're an idiot," he said fondly.

"As for the hair bit, I'll probably avoid douche-y guys with yellow dreadlocks or whatever..." he chewed on his lip thoughtfully. "Anyway, I was thinking that it might be time to change my own... I was thinking something bright... like red, maybe?"

"Go for it," said Frank, as he patted the bristles at the back of Gerard's neck. "Red would look cool."

"Yeah, it would," Gerard said dreamily. Then, he pulled himself out of his revelry.

"Whatever color my fucking hair is, I'll still be your boyfriend, Frank," he said sincerely.

"I know, but - ow! fuck!"

They had been clinging on to each other tightly, and something sharp had just dug in to Frank's upper arm.

"Shit, you okay?"

"Yeah, I..." Frank's eyes had by now adjusted to the gloom of a room with no lights on at five in the morning. He peered closer, rubbing his bicep.

"Gerry, you're nails are fucking long."

"Yeah," Gerard breathed back. "I was gonna cut them tonight, but I just forgot, I guess."

"But," Frank struggled to speak coherently. "But you've always bitten them down."

He had no idea why this was such a big deal to him. Perhaps it was because as well as the wide dark eyes and dimpled cheeks, Gerard had always had torn (and occasionally bloody) nails, bitten down from stress and anxiety. In the early days of their friendship, Gerard had always had a finger in his mouth. Frank remembered seeing him wince when he pressed something, and he remembered thinking about how biting your nails down until the flesh around them was raw and smarting must be painful.

When had Gerard stopped? And how had Frank, who took in every detail there was to see, not noticed?

"I," Gerard bit his lip, clearly thinking hard. "I dunno... I guess that I don't need to bite them anymore. Whenever I was worried or nervous I'd bite 'em so I'd have something to do...and I liked the feeling of actually being able to tear something off and not feeling too much pain."

He sighed and it was then that Frank saw, briefly, the scared sixteen year old, crying as he lay on the cold grass covered in his own vomit, leaning on Frank's shoulder when he told him his secret in the back of the jeep, desperate to win his father's approval on his seventeenth birthday...

"So much has changed," Gerard was very close, his breath was tickling Frank's cheek and, despite the promises of distance, art school and hair dye, things were (and probably would always be) the same.

Frank remembered the prediction he'd made two years ago. How Gerard would leave and come back to him after his own healing process, better and stronger than ever. In another two years time, where would they be? Would they be dead, would an apocalypse have brought the world to a premature death?

No one knew. The only thing that was tangible and concrete was this moment right here: the two lovers with their arms tight around each other in a shabby basement in northern New Jersey. 

Frank didn't know if he'd ever become a professional musician with a band, and Gerard didn't know if he'd ever get that coveted internship at Cartoon Network.

Neither of them could possibly predict the awaiting tragedy of September Eleven. Neither of them knew about future or what it held.

All the same, even if Frank did know what was in store for him and the boy lying next to him, he'd still care about his raggedy nails.

"I guess," Gerard brought their lips together and looked right into Frank's eyes. 

"I guess I just don't need to bite them down anymore."

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [bandaids for biten nails](https://archiveofourown.org/works/893741) by [orphan_account](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account)




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